


The Demon Within

by bradcpu



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Gen, Injury, Multi, Romance, Violence, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bradcpu/pseuds/bradcpu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angsty Buffy/Faith-focused ensemble action written in the style of back-to-back crossover TV episodes, circa BtVS S4/S5 (see notes). You should even be able to spot the commercial breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Lies Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it in summer of 2005 (between Buffy seasons 4 and 5) as the two-episode finale of a larger fanfic season which was never archived. Earlier in that fictional season, Tara had died to save Willow, Riley had grown apart from Buffy, and Faith had been released from prison and spent the last few months on AtS working with Angel Investigations. All of that was just our best guess at the time about where the shows were going. It's also worth noting that at the time I wrote this, I had never seen the final 15 minutes of the Angel S1 episode "Sanctuary," and I wrote what now looks like a blatant rip-off of a key scene from that episode. Yay?

L.A. was drenched, smelling of rot and wet asphalt, and the downpour dulled the sound of Faith's heavy footsteps. For "sunny California" it sure did rain a whole hell of a lot.

The last time she walked this street she was a different person. Angel. The memory of her laughter hit the soaked Slayer, and she shook it away with a wince. Hard to believe that was just a few hours ago.

The tight-ass Watcher and his paranoid cheerleader sidekick had never really accepted her after her release. Even though she saved their asses on a repeated basis she was still on probation, in lots of ways. Angel was different. He understood - guilt, change, all of it - and the two formed a bond. With the disruptive duo in Sunnydale, he even let Faith drag him to the club tonight after a quick patrol. Not the best dancer in the world... A smile played across her lips in spite of herself.

She passed a familiar archway. There was a group of ravers huddled there now, but what she saw was Angel pulling her under it, sheltering her from the rain. She had opened up to him here, let it all out. And his eyes warmed, looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at Faith.

She thought she saw redemption in those eyes, for both of them. She cursed silently. It was her own damn fault - opening up, trusting. For needing someone besides herself. What the hell was she thinking?

Her thoughts turned to what the two had shared afterward. It seemed different too - gentle and reverent, the way it had been with B's beefstick, but so much more. Or at least she had fooled herself into believing that.

Of course it was the same old shit. She woke up crying some time around 3 a.m. as usual to find an empty bed and a lame note about what a great fuck she was. It snapped her out of her pathetic daze, reminded her of rule number one: Get some, get gone. So she did. Her white tank top and jeans were still wet when she put them back on.

Slayer senses kick when they fill your blood with the music of the club from this far away. Even better when they let you spot the two vamps about to pull a group suck on some bawling raver chick in the shadows of an alley. One of the bastards was holding down some waifish blue-haired girl, pinning her against a dumpster, while the other took his time playing with their prey.

Perfect. Faith marched straight toward them. "Hey! Fangs for brains. Got a treat for ya."

Both bloodsuckers - and the girl - turned in shock and looked at her. "Damn. You're pretty ugly, even for vamps." One of them growled and charged hard, throwing a clumsy right hook at her chin. Obviously book smarts weren't their strong suit either.

Faith easily ducked the blow. Too easily. She wasn't feeling it yet. So when the offbalance doof managed to throw the left she was waiting for, she let it land. The blow exploded against her mouth and left her looking at the back of her matted hair. But she didn't fall. She tossed her hair back and faced the scowling vamp. Over his shoulder she saw that the other had left his cowering victim to join in.

Her heart picked up the rhythm of the bass pounding from the distant club. She sucked in her lower lip, tasting her own blood, and her voice turned husky. "Let's have some fun, boys."

The first vamp hissed and swung again. The Slayer slapped the punch aside, sending him staggering forward, and caught the second vamp with a side kick to the sternum as he charged in. An arm circled her from behind, tightening around her throat. In a blur of motion, the Slayer elbowed the vamp behind her - breaking a few ribs along with his grip - and flipped him over her head by his arm. She stepped down on his neck, holding him in place. The other one had recovered his balance and was charging again.

She looked down at the vamp beneath her thick sole. "You two are dumber than you look, and that's saying something." A second later a roundhouse kick sent the other one crashing into the wall, and Faith felt nothing beneath her boot but wet cement. The Slayer realized she had beheaded the prone vamp with her plant foot on the roundhouse, dusting him. "Fuck." The bloodsucker wouldn't have let his victim die so easily.

The other was trying to scramble away on all fours amid the boxes and trash cans that lined the alley. Her heavy breath rang through her head, drowning out the echoing clatter of the trash cans and the cowering raver's pleas. For the first time since she awoke, she felt alive.

She flipped the vampire onto his back and straddled him, pinning him as he had his victim, murder flashing in her brown eyes. He clawed at the pavement, arms flailing in a frenzied attempt to escape, but Faith just stared down at her struggling catch. "Done yet?" Her hand snaked behind her, pulled the stake from its hiding place near the small of her back, and dusted the vamp.

A chill shot down her neck as she felt another presence looming over her. There must be third one. Damn! She had been so wrapped up in the kill she didn't notice, and now it was right on top of her. The dark-haired girl whirled, back hand cocked and loaded with the stake.

The raver's blue hair was stuck to her face by tears and sweat. She stared at the taller girl, frozen like an animal in headlights. Eyes wide, face trembling. It was the same way she had looked at the vamps. Faith remembered Allan Finch's face staring at her in the same death mask of sheer terror, her stake buried in his heart.

Faith dropped the stake and sank to her knees beneath the storm. The raver splish-splashed away as the dark-haired girl stared at the rain washing over her bloody hands. A voice in the back of her mind produced a word.

_Monster._

She pushed the word back into the depths where it lived and willed herself to slow the heaving sobs. Her thoughts rolled over the idea of the stake in her own heart. One quick thrust... no more guilt or pain or letting people down. Maybe then B can have a Slayer that's not a psycho.

Fatigue suddenly hit Faith in waves, and she realized she had only a few scant hours of sleep in the past few days. That's what she wanted, more than anything. Just to rest. Her teardrop-shaped eyes fell wearily on the stake again.

A scream broke her from the gaze, and she looked up to see the back of the raver girl dangling in the arms of a large figure near the street. Her face hardened and she snapped up the stake, springing to her feet.

The man released his grip, and the raver's drained body fell in a heap to a thunderclap. "Mmm. The pink ones are tasty, but I think blue's my new favorite flavor." A lightning flash illuminated Angelus' blood-stained smile.

Faith staggered a bit and fought a welling nausea to whisper his name. It was barely audible, but dead-boy must have heard. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me." His dark frame strode casually toward her through the storm, hands tucked into a black trenchcoat.

His face looked human again but she could smell the evil all over him. The realization of what happened to Angel hit her like a blast of cold air, and she found a horrible sense of peace in it. Her knees steadied.

"Lose that pesky soul of yours again? Geez, if your head wasn't attached to your shoulders - Hey, there's an idea."

Angelus was still coming.

_That's right, you son of a bitch. Come on._ She held the stake behind her back, her body relaxed and unguarded.

He stopped just inches from her, his eyes looking her over from boots to face. Reaching up, he took her chin gently into his hand and brought her gaze up to meet his. "Poor little lost Slayer." She jerked away instinctively.

"You thought it would be different this time, didn't you?" He was trying to circle her as he spoke, but she moved with him to keep the stake out of sight. "You thought you had found affection. Trust." He stopped circling and searched her face. "What? Love?" he chuckled. "I mean, come on, look at yourself. You're damaged goods. What do you want? A house with a picket fence and a dog named Spot? Are you wearing white on your wedding day, Faith? Does the maid of honor get a kiss?"

The words were all part of the game. She knew that. She steeled herself against the swelling tide of anger, but her mind had killed him after each question. "This from the undead freak. So, we gonna throw down or are you just gonna stand there flapping your fangs all night?"

He ignored her, his tone becoming more earnest. "Have you asked yourself why, Faith? Why no one has ever cared? Besides the whole pity thing, I mean." He fought back a smile as this was rewarded with a flash of rage. "Why has everyone tried to screw you in one way or another? Everyone but me."

Angelus moved impossibly close now, putting his hands on her waist. She felt his words whisper against her cheek. "Maybe it's because there's a little bit of me inside you. A little demon just waiting to get out." Faith's hand tightened on the stake.

"Word of warning, shish-kabob. My demon doesn't talk people to death."

She jerked her arm upward, but it moved only a few inches. Angelus had circled his arm around her back as he spoke and now gripped her stake hand around the wrist. In full vamp face again, he snarled at her and tightened his hold, wrenching her arm up her back. The Slayer struggled, but he had her like a vice.

"Who's worse?" He wrenched again, drawing a grunt from Faith as the tendons in her shoulder began to give way. "The one who kills to survive?" Another wrench, and a gutteral sound from the girl as her right arm popped out of socket. Her breath was ragged now, and her eyes darted around the alley searching for something she could use to her advantage. "Or the one who gets off on it?"

A last wrench and the bones splintered, snapping loudly, piercing the skin. She didn't cry out, but it took every ounce of her to fight off unconsciousness as the blinding pain took hold.

When he released his grip the dark-haired girl wobbled to her knees, broken. Through blurred vision she watched the figure walk slowly back toward the street.

"Poor little lost Slayer."

The pain became more distant, and Faith noticed that her head had somehow made its way to the blood-washed concrete. The world danced in a swirl of gray and red, then faded into darkness.

++++++++++

 

Cordelia pounded on the door again and added an exasperated sigh for emphasis. Only a few seconds passed before she returned to looking at her watch and shifting her weight.

At last a disheveled Giles appeared, squinting in the morning sun and trying to put on his glasses. He pondered the girl on his doorstep in confusion, blissfully unaware of the state of his hair.

"Cordelia? It's - it's early."

"And?"

"I see your point. Uh, do come in."

 

\------

 

"I'm afraid that's everyone," Giles said.

Buffy looked around the room. Not exactly the usual suspects.

Xander and Anya were on a "romantic retreat." She could only guess what constituted romance between those two. In their place was the unlikely duo of Cordelia and Spike, who were having a what's-wrong-with-this-picture bonding moment over soap opera gossip. Willow, minus Tara, sat on the sofa looking glum and strangely out-of-place. Riley should have been here. He could have at least told her where he was going. Were secrets going to come between them forever?

Buffy took a deep breath. It must be important if Giles had assembled this group. "OK, let's get started."

The door opened and all eyes turned to Wesley on the other side. Buffy could have sworn she saw the "rogue demon hunter" turn three shades of pink.

"Sorry I'm late. I'm... not a morning person. Lately." Wesley cut his eyes quickly to Cordelia, who was grinning like a Cheshire, then lowered his head and walked briskly out of the center of attention.

Buffy resumed. "We're here because-" She caught herself. She was used to knowing the plan, leading the way. "-because Giles has something to tell us. Something that's very important. So we should all look at Giles now."

"I, uh, thought it would be appropriate to have everyone gathered first," Giles fumbled. "This is not a subject I care to broach time and again." Giles avoided Buffy's gaze and shifted uncomfortably.

"What a bunch o' wankers," Spike blurted out as he got up to leave. "Our dear Cordy has had a vision, the soul's gone sour for blondie's bloody ex again, this time in the bed of your renegade Slayer." Spike paused thoughtfully at the edge of the room before adding, "And don't forget to pick up some smokes when you go out today. Goodnight."

A cacophony of voices began at once, but Buffy's was not among them. She stood staring at Giles, icewater running through her veins. Angel. Faith. She wanted to think, to work out why this couldn't be true, but it was lost in the sea of:

"These visions and interpretations cannot always-" ... "That _girl_ is a murdering psychopath. Surely-" ... "If we've cast the spell before then maybe, maybe-" ... "I told you he was making a mistake by trusting-"

"Shut up!" Buffy screamed. "All of you! Just... please."

Silence fell heavy in the room. She turned away and put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her weeping then ran out, the door slamming behind her.

Cordelia sighed. "I'd say she took it well." Willow raced after the blonde Slayer, leaving the group in silence again.

Buffy was pacing just outside the door, and when she heard it open she made a few swipes at the tears rolling down her face. "Guess that must have looked pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Listen, if we can just piece together what happened, then-" Willow cut herself off, already regretting what slipped out.

"It's not exactly a jigsaw puzzle, Will." Happiness, even true love - without her. "I think we all see the big picture." She choked out the last word as her tears began to flow again.

"You don't know that! This could be - I mean, there are all kinds of magic..." Willow saw her arguments were falling on deaf ears, and she wasn't sure she believed them herself. So she stopped and hugged her friend. "We'll work this out."

"I'm the Slayer," Buffy wiped her eyes again. "_I'll_ work it out. I don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"But we're, you know, a team. Aren't we?"

Buffy thought for moment. About Jenny. About Angel. About Faith. "Yeah, we are," she said distantly.

The two walked back in to find Giles, Cordelia, and Wesley quickly breaking off what seemed to have been a heated conversation. Giles looked up. "Buffy, we may have a bit of a problem."

"Boy, this day's just getting better and better." She glanced at her watch. "And it's still early."

"Yes, uh, quite. Well, we were hoping of course that it would never become relevant-"

Wesley interrupted, "Every host body has a certain tolerance to the Thessulan Orb curse that was originally used on Angel. With each repetition, the tolerance becomes greater."

Willow's eyes widened. "Yes. Yes! It's like the first time you get measles. You're all bumpy and sweaty, but then, the next time, you're not." She looked at Buffy with a crooked smile. "Not the best analogy in the world, but it makes perfect sense magically speaking."

"So what do we have to do?" Buffy asked.

"Angel's tolerance will have grown so strong that there's really only one, uh, element that is sure to boost the curse to the required power." Giles was looking uncomfortable again, and she knew that meant bad news. "His blood."

"Road trip," Buffy said.

++++++++++

The car's gentle rocking sensation faded into her subconscious, and Buffy stood gazing at her bathroom mirror with the distinct impression that something was wrong. After several moments of confusion, she realized this wasn't her bathroom at all. It was the one from Faith's old motel room. And her reflection wasn't her.

"Hey, girlfriend," Faith smiled back from the stained mirror. "Still practicing your smile?"

"I'm not the same. I've changed," Buffy said with a furrowed brow. She was still unsure of how she got here or what the words meant. Her Faith reflection gave her a careful look, then smirked.

"You're still not ready yet. But it's coming like a train. If you close your eyes you can feel it shakin' the tracks." As the image shut its eyes, so did Buffy. And she could feel it - a buzzing somewhere just out of reach, deep and powerful.

In the darkness, she heard the words echo through her mind. "Hope you can handle it, B."

\------

 

Faith stood in Buffy's bathroom, the blonde Slayer looking back from the well-lit mirror. "Are you ready to face it?" Buffy asked, her expression stern and somber.

"No more games, B." Faith squeezed her eyes tight. Everything screamed with pain, and she just wanted it all to go away. When she opened them, Buffy was still there.

Faith heard music begin behind her, and her reflection turned to look. When the blonde girl turned back, her expression had softened. "Too late. It's time."

Buffy extended her arm from the mirror, laid it on Faith's forehead, and pushed. The dark Slayer began to fall backwards out of control, no floor beneath her anymore. Somehow the direction reversed, flinging her forward, and she sat bolt upright in a hospital bed.

"Whoa! Calm down. You're safe." Hands were on her shoulders, pushing her backwards again. This time she met a firm mattress. Each eye was opened in turn, and a bright light shone down into it as the gentle female voice spoke. "What's the last thing you remember? Can you tell me your name?"

Ignoring the question, she focused her clearing vision on her right arm and saw a cast. "Dammit!" The voice was heavy with gravel, but it felt good to form the word. The nurse seemed pleased as well.

"You're actually a very lucky girl."

"Yeah? That'd be a first," came the croaked response. If she hadn't been doped up in a hospital, Faith knew she would have regained consciousness much sooner.

"When you were brought in we thought we might have to amputate. But you've healed remarkably fast. In less than two days, the bone-"

"Two days!" The dark-haired girl noticed the fading afternoon light filtering through the window blinds. She had been lying here overnight like a big, juicy Slayer steak.

"You should be glad you have someone who cares so deeply about you." The nurse nodded toward a chair in the corner, which was now occupied only by a mass of roses. "He stayed with you all night."

The impact of those words triggered the memory of cold lips touching her forehead during her dream. He shouldn't have left her alive. "Lady, if it makes you feel any better Mr. FTD is gonna get something special in return."

 

++++++++++

 

Tracking Faith was never too difficult; just follow the trail of chaos. The biggest thing in their favor was that the girl never bothered to clean up her messes. It had been a tougher task to convince Willow and Giles that she needed to face the other Slayer alone.

Even so, it surprised Buffy to find her so easily. The hospital was old news by the time the blonde Slayer arrived, but the violence and confusion in her wake pointed a big, neon sign straight at Faith.

The access door to the roof opened, and Buffy stared out over L.A. from 30 stories up. The last glow of sunset painted the skyline and the buildings beneath a serene violet. She imagined that moments ago the silhouetted figure near the ledge was staring out at the horizon beyond, wondering about the future. But now that figure faced her in a fighting stance.

"Come to throw me off another roof, B?"

A sure fight stood in front of her, but the true battle was happening inside Buffy Summers. The ghost of Faith's crimes, her penitent turn, what she had done to - with - Angel and Riley, her own bond with Faith, all of it and more raced through her. The torrent of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm the blonde Slayer. "I... thought we'd talk."

"I'm not much of a talking kinda girl, in case you haven't noticed. I'm more the roof-tossing kind."

Buffy clenched her fists, and the internal war intensified as she moved forward. She kept telling herself that she really did want to talk this out, but the image of Faith and Angel twisted inside her like a blade. She thought the other Slayer had taken everything from her, everything she could take, but nothing compared to this. This wasn't a trick or an illusion. Angel had once told her that he'd been with dozens of girls like Faith, and that wasn't what he wanted. _People change, I guess._ The blonde Slayer tensed.

Then the dim glow illuminated the other girl's features. It wasn't the same Faith. The same fiery brown eyes stared out from beneath her whipping raven hair, but she looked emaciated - probably hadn't eaten solid food in days. The taller girl shook with the effort of simply holding her stance, and Buffy noticed the long scar patterns along her right arm. But more than that, she looked fatigued. Beaten. She remembered the Faith she knew before the mayor, the girl who was so full of life that it threatened to consume them both; the girl she once admired, and the girl she missed. Sympathy flooded through Buffy.

"The hell are you looking at?" Faith spat.

The conflict inside the blonde Slayer was decided the moment she saw the other girl's face. "Someone I care about. Someone who needs help."

Faith looked around. "See, that's funny, cause I only see two of us out here." But her expression showed that the other girl's words had caught her offguard, and she had relaxed her defenses.

Buffy pressed the slight advantage. "Listen-"

"No! I'm done listening. I'm done paying and waiting and being a good little girl. It's time for somebody else to pick up the check."

The blonde Slayer moved within arm's reach, eyeing the ledge warily. A quick leverage move from either right now and it would all be over. Faith may seem beaten, but the cornered look in her eyes told Buffy a strike could come without warning. _Everything begins with trust._

The dark-haired girl caught the other Slayer's unsure look and smiled, casting a quick glance at the ledge. "Afraid of heights? Because I'm thinking it's your turn to take the fall. It's not so bad, aside from all of the pain. Oh, and the year or so of living death. But, hey, don't worry, nobody could survive that drop."

The blonde girl took a deep breath and replayed Faith's fall in her mind. This was a second chance. "We don't have to do this again. There's no reason anymore, is there? Plus your kicks really hurt."

Buffy allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as this brought a quickly extinguished smile from the other Slayer. Another defense fell. "Look... it's just us now."

The dark-haired girl's lips tightened again. "It's just me now."

It was meant to sound angry and selfish, but Buffy saw it for what it was. Faith had someone on her side, reaching out to her. Couldn't she see that? "Why won't you let anyone in, Faith? Let anyone-"

"Who? You? One of those damn Watchers? Angel?" Her voice trailed off. "Screw that." Her shoulders slumped as weariness won out at last.

The way the dark Slayer phrased Angel's name made Buffy's heart skip. She swallowed hard. "What happened?"

Faith lowered her head for a moment, then sat down facing the ledge. The other girl slid down beside her, but Faith kept her focus on the horizon. "Tried to care. It turned to shit like it always has."

"It's like I told you, B. I'm on my side." She turned to the other Slayer for an instant, but quickly looked away when she met Buffy's gaze. Her voice was softer now as she looked down again. "That's the way it's gotta be. I just keep forgetting. Keep getting another knife in the gut." The last sentence quickly died as she turned her chin away, hiding her face. A tear glinted in the moonlight as it slid from under her dark hair and down her ivory neck. Faith ignored it, probably hoping the other girl wouldn't see.

The blonde Slayer studied the dance of violet light and shadows on Faith's suddenly fragile face through moist green eyes. "It doesn't have to be that way. It never did."

"Yeah, right," she said with a bitter laugh. "Faith, the psycho Scooby."

"Why don't we just try 'Faith'." Buffy wiped away one of the tracks of wetness streaking the other Slayer's face, as the dark-haired girl fought to pull herself together.

Both were silent for a moment, lost in the past; the mistakes, the laughter, the betrayals, everything unresolved. It had built a wall between them. But beneath it all was the intoxicating feeling of fighting together. Alone they were two halves, split. Then Faith smiled - a weak, genuine smile. "I guess we did make a pretty good team, huh B?"

Her voice quavered as brown eyes locked with green ones again, and the smile faded away. "Look, I gotta bail. Told ya I wasn't much of a talking kinda girl."

She started to stand, but Buffy gently restrained her. "Maybe it's time to stop running away." The moment hung heavy in the air before the dark Slayer looked away.

"I've got nothing to offer you anymore, B." Faith's tears were flowing freely now, and she wiped them away with a curse. "Nothing but damaged goods."

Buffy pulled her into a tight embrace. The other girl resisted at first, then melted into the warmth with quiet sobs shaking her back. As the dampness spread on her shoulder, the blonde girl tucked her cheek into Faith's spilling hair and closed her eyes. Her head filled with the scent of something reborn until the world spun. She clutched desperately to that feeling, like a drowning man gasping for air, and hoped that the moment would never end.

When they pulled apart, Faith's face was alive again. Damp and flushed, but alive. "B, do you think, if we could start over... Fuck! I mean, do you think-"

"Yes!" Buffy smiled through her tears.

Then the world exploded to the sound of a deep, wooden thunk. The blonde Slayer lay on her back staring up at the sky and fighting to regain her senses. She was vaguely aware of Angel's voice - saying something about "kiss and make up" - to a steady stream of curses from Faith.

The rhythmic crack of flesh on bone told her that the other Slayer was battling Angelus, and Buffy gathered what equilibrium she could muster and made a mighty effort to stand. She got to all fours before nearly blacking out and surveyed the scene.

The first thing she saw was a pool of blood in the spot where her head was lying moments ago and a steady drip from her face. Her head felt like a bowling ball, but she raised it enough to look in the direction of the fight. Just as her eyes found the two figures, Faith leapt to the ledge and bounced off to deliver a flying roundhouse kick to Angelus. The dark-haired girl reached behind her back for the stake as the vampire staggered, but he caught her weakened arm.

The blonde Slayer tried again to stand as she heard the other girl scream in pain, but ended up face down in her own blood. She lifted her head again and saw Faith, right arm mangled, stabbing downward with the stake in her left hand. The wooden spike slammed hard into Angelus' chest, but well high of its target. He tossed the stake aside and advanced on the backpedaling dark Slayer, saying something Buffy couldn't hear. The blonde girl looked away as a final crack was followed by the sound of Faith's body crumpling to the ground.

She made a last effort to stand, rage and desperation powering her legs to move underneath her. With her fingertips still on the ground and her knees wobbling, she heard the casual approach of the vampire. For a moment, she believed she had made it to her feet. Then she realized that Angelus had pulled her head up by the hair and was now slowly licking her bloody face.

"I never get tired of that." He stopped and held her weakly struggling frame close, whispering in her ear. "She was more than you'll ever be, sweet little Buffy. You can't imagine the things she did to me. But don't let that stop you from trying." A quiet chuckle shook his ribs.

"I think it's past your bedtime, little girl." A sudden rush of movement turned the violet sky into blackness.

 

++++++++++

 

"What time is it?" Giles asked.

"Five minutes later," was Willow's response.

"Could you be a bit more specific, please?"

"Twenty minutes past time to officially be worried." Willow absentmindedly rolled the Thessulan Orb around in her fingers. "Maybe they just forgot to call. They could be, you know, talking or... something." Silence. "Or not."

With that, Giles began his 374th trip across the living area of the hotel room.

Cordelia looked up from filing her nails. "Will you sit down? You're making me nervous."

Giles smiled quietly as he continued his journey. "Yes, well we certainly wouldn't want anything to disturb the tranquility."

"I'm afraid I must agree with Mr. Giles. This is an instance-" Wesley's voice died as he found three stunned expressions staring back at him. Puzzled, he looked for a stain on his jacket. "What?"

The phone rang, and Wesley, Willow, and Cordelia all pounced on it before Giles' hand nimbly stole the receiver away.

 

\------

 

Angelus listened to the orderly's call with a smile then slipped through the bustling waiting room and out into the street. Slayer tag teams were a new experience, but he was developing a taste for it. As sweet as candy; eat one now, save one for later.

He had made sure that this time there would be no interference from the princess, no gypsy curse. Playtime was over. Time to make some magic.

 

\------

 

Buffy woke to a pain that felt like a lance through her head from temple to temple. This had to be the worst headache in the history of Slayerdom. What had she been doing?

She had walked out onto the roof and found Faith. Then... Another bolt of pain shut off her thought like a light switch just as Giles rushed into the hospital room.

"Buffy! How do you feel?"

"Like a hospital patient, only more pain. What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Buffy's forehead wrinkled, which in itself was painful, and she fished again for the events on the rooftop. She and Faith were talking under a dusky glow. There were tears and warm arms.

"Faith," Buffy whispered.

Giles' face took on a look she hadn't seen since Jenny's death.

"Yes, we gathered as much. Rest assured-"

"No, you don't understand."

She thought back again, and it flooded her at once - the tears, the blood, the final crack. "Faith!" Buffy looked up at Giles through watery eyes. "It was Angel." The Slayer leapt out of the bed before her Watcher could stop her.

"Buffy, this is madness. You have, uh, a fractured skull and-and heaven knows what else."

But she had already staggered into the bathroom and was putting on her clothes. "You know, Slayer healing. Yada, yada, yada."

"That does not make you invincible."

The blonde girl peeked her head out. "No, but it makes me pretty damned cocky. Shirt, please."

 

\------

 

Willow and Wesley stopped pacing when they saw Buffy coming toward the waiting room at a full march in blood-soaked clothes. Giles made a hasty excuse to the night nurse as Buffy's ensemble tore Cordelia's attention away from her magazine. "New look for you?"

Willow shot Cordelia a poison glance and turned to Buffy. "Are you OK?"

"Got a stake?"

Willow smiled and reached into a bag by her side. "Never leave home without'em."

Buffy took the weapon, mouth set in determination. "Then I'm five by five."

 

++++++++++

 

Another fist smashed into Faith's battered face, accompanied by a vampire roar. Her body snapped back to the apartment wall, straining against her shackled arms.

As the effect of the blow died away, she breathed through bloody strands of hair. "Oh, baby. Yeah, that's it."

Angelus roared and struck again.

Faith sultry voice answered again. "Damn, baby. You've done this before, haven't you?"

The vampire kissed her swollen mouth. "Since before you were born. But that doesn't mean I can't learn a thing or two from a pro like you. I mean, what you did to Wesley - that was art."

For the first time, the Slayer looked as if a blow had landed. She turned away, her mind racing through all of her guilt. But the vision that haunted her most was the blood-covered face of the girl she hadn't been able to save on the rooftop. Everyone, everything she cared for was dead, and so was Faith. "Look, why don't you just do me and get it over with. I'm bored as fuck here."

"Oh no, it's not going be that easy," Angelus laughed. He picked up a long, ornate blade and stroked it as he approached Faith. She raised her chin, eyes defiant as he ran the cold steel softly down her neck. "See, I know you, Faith. I know your body. Your dreams. What you want."

He pulled the blade away and leaned closer. "I know what you fear."

"Oh yeah? Does 'vampire breath' ring a bell?"

He continued, softly and solemnly. "You fear this life. So that's what I'm going to give you, lost Slayer. A thousand lifetimes."

 

++++++++++

 

Giles entered the hotel room to the overpowering smell of candles and herbs. Willow and Cordelia were gathered around a coffee table, ready to begin the curse, as Wesley stood with a hankerchief to his nose.

"Well?" a breathless Willow asked.

"It was exactly as she described." Giles produced a glistening, bloody stake, trying to forget the grisly scene he and a wobbly Buffy had encountered on the rooftop. It was unwise to let her leave in that condition, but the girl was so headstrong. "We found it near the ledge."

Willow nodded at Cordelia to add their last element to the table.

"Ick! Do I have to touch the thing?"

"Allow me," Wesley smiled. Using his hankerchief to hold the stake above the orb, he allowed the excess blood to build to a thick drop on its point.

The redhead had already begun to chant as Giles took his place beside them.

\------

 

Faith strained but couldn't stretch enough to see where the vampire had gone when he walked out of her narrow field of vision. She tested her bonds again. Too solid. Her focus turned to the items of the room, searching as she had in the alley for a weapon, an escape. Anything. Then the sound of violins underscored by a timpani filled the apartment.

Angelus appeared in front of her again. "I never liked this kind of stuff myself. But the song seemed appropriate."

"Hey, you're right. Fruity music _is_ my worst fear." Her voice shook. Something had begun to stir inside her, something that woke her up every night in tears. Only now her eyes were open, and this was no dream.

"Time's up, Faith." Angelus was in vamp face now, and snarled over her. "The demon's calling. It's time to face it."

The Slayer squirmed desperately until she felt the fangs pierce her neck. There was a brief whimpering sound, then all thought was lost in a dizzying rush. There were only sensations after; the touch of steel on her face that seemed familiar, like a dream she once had; the feel of warm blood rushing over her lips and tongue. From somewhere far away came a crescendo in the music, pleading strings, a male and a female voice soaring into high notes. Then nothing.

 

\------

 

Angel inhaled deeply and looked around. He was in his apartment, kneeling for some reason. It was several seconds before he felt the girl suckling meekly at the open wound on his chest. He pushed her head away and stared in revulsion.

"Faith? Oh my God."

 

\------

 

Buffy's kick sent the door's bolt mechanism flying into the apartment, the blonde Slayer right behind. She took two steps into the living room and stopped, frozen. Faith's limp body still hung from its bonds.

The blonde girl slowly knelt, and her hand brushed back the dark, matted hair. The mottled face rolled to the side, revealing the bite marks on her neck. She freed Faith's arms and held her one last time. There had been so many turning points for the two Slayers, so many mistakes. Yet on that rooftop none of it seemed to matter. Everything had felt so right again. It wasn't supposed to end this way. If they only had one more minute.

Buffy whispered a short phrase into the girl's stiff locks. It came too late.

It could have been seconds or hours before Buffy stood again, her wet face grim and emotionless. When she left, Angel's apartment was torn to pieces, the floor a carpet of glass and splintered wood. The blonde Slayer felt as empty as the body she left behind.

She stepped out into the street to the pre-dawn glow and saw Angel sitting serenely on the curb, facing away from her. "She's dead, isn't she?" It was a statement more than a question, and his voice was thick with guilt.

Another war began inside Buffy, but the piercing pain in her temple made the street feel like liquid beneath her feet. She wasn't up to a fight with Angel and probably never was, so she sat down beside him. "Yes."

"Your head!" Angel reached out toward her forehead, and Buffy quickly leaned away, her mouth quivering in fear. Angel's face fell, and he lowered his hand.

She chided herself silently and reached out, stopping just short of touching his shoulder. "I-I'm sorry. It's just-"

"I know."

There was a long pause as both searched for words to express their grief. Finding none, the girl spoke. "So what do we do now?"

"Thought I'd watch the sun rise."

The Slayer was surprised by a rush of satisfaction at the thought, but immediately fought the feeling down. "That won't solve anything."

"It will keep me from killing again. How many lives would have been saved if I had done it before I met you?"

The girl's heart leapt at the words as she remembered all that they've shared, all they've felt for each other. A wall fell inside her, and she was awash in buried feelings, vows, and sacrifices. Despite all they had been through, her love for Angel had never faded. Right now that love filled the empty shell of her soul and she clung to it, as she had clung to Faith hours ago. "How many times have you saved my life and so many others?"

"Even then, there were times when I thought the demon was more of me than I was. It's always there, Buffy. Just waiting."

She anxiously watched the glow begin to brighten over the horizon and took his hand. "Come inside."

He clasped her hand in both of his and looked up through tortured eyes. What he saw was the girl he'd watched secretly from afar and wanted to help, the girl he fell in love with. But he also saw righteousness - his judge and his confessor. "How can I? After what I did to you..." He felt her palm touch his face, but he didn't reach out to her again. "...after what I did to Faith - what I made you do to Faith. Looking at her face, seeing all of her pain, I-I couldn't finish it."

Buffy's brow furrowed and the blinding, stabbing ache returned as she tried to make sense of the confession. Couldn't finish it? She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

Angel's apologetic look turned to wide-eyed realization. "You - you thought she was already dead." In a blur, he leapt toward his door, a baffled Buffy in tow.

An early morning breeze blew through a smashed window. The room was empty. Buffy shook her spinning head in confusion as Angel silently mouthed the nature of the abomination. "A Slayer."

 

++++++++++

 

A young man's death gaze stared into nothingness, his nude body discarded on the bedroom floor of the tiny apartment.

Across the room, the Slayer let the crimson-streaked white bedsheets fall from her body and slid into new leather pants. A loose, burgundy silk top fell into place over her tight stomach.

Everything seemed luminous through the golden eyes, and it was all unfettered - no more guilt or pain or unfulfilled desires. The world was a carnival just waiting for her to ride. But for now she was content to turn her hands over, studying them with wonder. A hiss came through fanged teeth.

"This is the kick."

 

+++++++++++

CONT'D


	2. Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone has to deal with their own demons. With punches.

A spark flashed and flame leapt out from the lighter, hovering over a candle wick. It soon began to wobble in a shaky hand.

Xander snapped the lighter shut, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was going to do this, and he was going to do it right. With a burst of determination, he held the flame to the candle again. The teasing lick of fire refused to catch and began to grow warm in his hand.

"Ow. OW!" Dropping the lighter to the carpet, he hopped around the room with his finger in his mouth.

As he sucked his wounded finger, he nervously weighed the room's romantic potential. Giles' apartment was illuminated by the glow of hundreds of candles, which rested on every visible surface. Not exactly the ideal setting, but it was better than his parents' basement. Besides, the sketchy note Giles left - with instructions to "feed Spike" - screamed vacancy.

Straightening his tie again and smoothing out his tux, he gave a contented half-smile. Not bad. And he hadn't thought about any other girl all day. Not even Buffy. _Wait, did that count?_ After all, he was just checking her off of his mental list. It's not like he had an image of her doing something lewd. Until now.

Xander slapped down on his twitching left eye and fumbled in his pocket, retrieving a piece of carefully folded notebook paper. There would be a little time to kill before his girlfriend arrived. Finishing his Ode to Anya seemed a lot less guilty than Slayer fantasies. There were a few missing pieces to the poem, but he was just a couple of quick rhymes away from a one-way ticket to loveville. Settling back on the couch, he read where he left off:

"Your hair is like (need something soft and sort of hair-like). Your lips are like (need something red and tasty but not in an edible way. Note: Must rhyme with hair word.)" He wadded up the paper and flung it over his shoulder with a sigh.

There's something missing. It has to be special. Xander studied the room again, then shrugged and rose to add more candles. Just as he picked up the lighter there was a soft knock on the door, and he jumped and spun so fast that the lighter flew across the room. With quick, shallow breaths, he checked his jacket pocket one last time for the small, velvet box that held his future.

"Come in." The door swung open, and Xander's measured smile fell into open-mouthed gawking.

Faith's hand slid down the doorframe, past a barely-there, deep red silk top, and fell alongside skin-tight leather pants. "Thanks, lover." She moved forward like a predator.

The boy's mouth had been working for the past few seconds, but no sound was coming out. A parade of protests formed in his mind but never made it any farther. Finally a sound emerged. "What do you want?" Somewhere along the journey from his brain to his lips the question had become a lot more suggestive than he intended.

"I got hurt again. I thought maybe..." Still moving toward him, she exposed her scarred right arm with a slight moan that sounded more like pleasure than pain. The movement caused one of the thin straps to fall off her shoulder, exposing the top curve of her breast to the golden candlelight. "I thought maybe you could have a look."

An involuntary sound escaped Xander as the dark Slayer came within inches of him. His hand moved slowly toward her, and he stopped breathing as he watched it lightly brush her skin. Faith's eyes were locked on his.

"Look at you," she breathed. "All dressed up and no place to go."

Xander garrisoned his courage. "Faith, I don't think-"

In a flash, his back was against a wall, and the Slayer's tongue was exploring his mouth. Her body was pressed to his, muscles rippling under tight skin and loose clothes. Hands raced across his chest, pants, back - nails ripping through his tux. He put up halfhearted resistance, but both knew that he was lost.

Beneath the growing tide of passion he noticed that her skin, always feverishly hot, was now oddly cool. Alarms sounded in his mind, and his feeble protests briefly became more physical. Then he felt his head pulled roughly to the side, exposing his neck, and his struggles were silenced.

 

\-----

 

Spike adjusted the grocery bag in his hand to reach for the doorknob before he saw that it was still ajar. Where were these people raised? "Animals," Spike muttered. He pushed it open to a flood of golden candlelight and stepped inside to see a half-naked Xander pressed against a nearby wall. A dark-haired girl was leaning over his neck.

Spike grinned smugly. He'd be set for weeks with the kind of cash it would cost to keep this bit of juicy gossip to himself. "And what do we have here? If it isn't our new and improved commitment boy." Spike craned his neck but couldn't make out the girl's face. "Looks like a step up, from where I'm standing." There was no quick scramble for clothes, no witty barb, no protest. In fact, the entangled couple had not even acknowledged his presence. "Well if you think I'm going to clean up this mess tomorrow-"

Faith's vampire face turned to Spike, her mouth covered with Xander's blood.

"Bloody hell."

Xander's limp body left a red trail as it slid down the wall, and Faith sprang at the blond vampire. Spike's groceries scattered, and he ducked a kick that crushed the doorframe behind his head. A second kick followed like lightning, landing in his stomach and sending him hurtling through the air. By the time he landed on the ground outside the apartment, the girl was already on him.

Her golden eyes flared over a wide grin. "Look at the big bad Spike. Buffy's little lapdog."

"Now wait a minute!" The pinned vampire moved to sit up, but a quick hand in his chest slammed him back to the ground. Spike rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, that hurt."

"Aw, poor Spike. Want me to kiss it better?" She began to slowly gyrate her hips on top of him, and her voice became a throaty whisper. "I bet you've been thinking about what I told you that night at the club, haven't you? I know I have."

Her trapped prey swallowed hard but remained silent until the Slayer bent down and kissed him deeply with a bloody mouth. She found her answer when he arched off the ground to press against her, his arms wrapping around the small of her back.

Another shove sent him back to the ground again. "If we only had a little more time." She pulled a stake from behind her.

Spike held his hands up in desperation. "Wait - stop! Think this through." Faith grinned at a distant memory, a gesture Spike mistook for mercy. Readying his most confident smile, he continued. "It's not my business what brought you here, love, but I'd be willing to wager we want the same thing." Spike cautiously slid his hands to her back again and sat forward. "Why not get what we want together?"

"Sorry," Faith said, slamming him down again. "I don't need a lapdog."

Headlights fell across the two as the dark Slayer coiled to strike. "That's my cue. Remember where we left off." A last kiss, and the girl was gone with a roar as car doors opened behind Spike.

"And here comes the cavalry," he said, rolling his eyes. "About bloody time." As he propped himself up on his elbows, a herd of feet went by his head and rushed toward the apartment. The vampire stood and dusted off his jacket. "I'm fine, thank you. And how was your day?"

He walked to the door and began to gather his groceries. When he glanced up, the Slayer had her head buried in her Watcher's shoulder. The other Watcher stammered his way through a 911 call with Cordy frantically screaming instructions. Red was holding the limp body and sobbing loudly.

Spike looked to the Slayer and feigned concern. "Is that one gonna be alright?" She only looked back in silence.

The vampire continued gathering his groceries, muttering to himself. "At least he went with a smile." A second later a fist smashed into his nose.

++++++++++

 

Face after face turned to Angel with a look of accusation as he wove through the tightly packed crowd. The blare of amplified guitars vibrated through the air, burning its way up his skin. The shrieked lyrics mocked him, and a murmur beneath it all seemed to whisper a warning, a condemnation.

He didn't belong here. But there was a price to be paid, and this was where it started. He'd deal with the rest in time.

His somber eyes scanned the crowd. This wasn't the bottom rung of L.A.'s dives, not even as bad as the place Faith had taken him... He cut the thought short and forced his mind to go blank. In time.

The searching gaze stopped on a mass of thrashing bodies a few feet away and locked on a small girl at the back of the group. Long, straight black hair flew about wildly as she moved to the music, oblivious to the people around her. As Angel extended his hand to tap her on the shoulder, she suddenly stopped dancing and whirled to face him.

The small Asian girl glared at up him for a few moments, her face glistening with perspiration. Then she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.

Angel followed, screaming over the music. "We need to talk!"

"We don't have anything to talk about." The girl walked faster, shouldering her way through the dancers and past the couples into a narrow alcove near the side of the stage. She never looked back, not stopping until she had pushed into the women's bathroom.

Her hands dove into the sink and brought the cold water into her face. Leaning on both arms, she looked at her wet face in the mirror. It was happening again, people coming to take him away - to tear them apart. He couldn't say no to them, so it was up to her to turn her back. To protect him.

"Miranda." The male voice came from just over her shoulder, and she turned to face Angel with anger and disbelief. She shouldn't be surprised; he would follow them anywhere. "I know," Angel said. "I know how tough this must be for-"

"You don't know anything! You don't know what we've been through. None of you do."

The girl's tone left no question about her resolve. Angel exhaled in frustration. "Something's happened, something..." He struggled, and he saw her patience failing. "We need your help."

"To do what? Save the world or just one of your whiny friends?"

The music became louder as a young blonde girl in a short skirt opened the bathroom door. She abruptly stopped laughing when she caught a sharp glance from Angel. "Um... K." She backed quickly out the door, and the vampire turned to Miranda again.

"This is about more than you, or I, or him, or the rest of us. I'm talking about a life-"

"A life he's left behind," she said. "You can go be Buffy-boy all you want. He's got his own life now." She folded her arms across her chest and looked to the side. "I'm not going to make him face it all again."

An image of Faith welled up from deep within his soul. "I'm not a big fan of open wounds," Angel said. "But sometimes there's a price to pay for peace."

Angel looked down at her and spoke softly. "Do this and you'll never hear from me again." Her carefully indifferent face now betrayed a glimmer of hope. This was one promise he intended to keep. "I swear it. Just tell him." With that, the vampire turned and left the bathroom, leaving Miranda to stare at the reflection in the dirty mirror again.

If this was what it took... she rotated the ring around her finger. Maybe it was worth it. Her hand moved down from the ring and traced the scar of a grotesque bite mark along her small left wrist.

_Just a little more pain._

 

++++++++++

 

There was something new here. Faith had seen this place before, sure. This alley outside The Bronze, the vampire, the pleading girl; it was familiar. But it was all so different this time.

A seductive hum of power filled her ears. She watched the night dance in a glow of vibrant colors as a vamp fought her with increasing desperation. Yet even at the height of his terror he seemed to her to be moving in slow motion, almost as if he were underwater. At last she went to full speed, landing two punches and staking him before he could throw another blow.

It felt good. Damn good.

The girl was thanking her, and Faith felt a twinge inside. She heard herself say "my pleasure" as if she were watching someone else say it. Was this a dream?

Then her mind recoiled as she became aware of the girl's hot blood streaming into her mouth. Faith's heart churned with need for the girl's life force, but she shoved her away, nearly retching. The drained corpse fell lifeless at her feet.

An emotion was swelling inside her, but a wash of anger pulled it under as her thoughts shifted in mid-stream. She was here to find someone - someone who hurt her. What was she thinking about before?

Nothing important. Faith sank back into the shadows.

++++++++++

A streak of light fell across Buffy's face as she paused at the cracked door and peered into the hospital room. She hesitated partly out of respect for Anya, who was whispering something to her unconscious boyfriend, and partly because she didn't want her to be the first to hear how her frantic search for the vampire had come up empty. So she just watched and waited.

Anya was on her knees by the bedside, holding Xander's hand. He looked pale, almost as white as the sheets. And still. It seemed wrong for him to be that still. The Slayer expected him to sit up at any second and tell them that it was all a big joke. Instead there was only the slow but reassuring beep that marked each heartbeat. His face was suddenly obscured by Anya's as the girl leaned forward to kiss his cheek. This must be like a nightmare-

The door was flung wide. "Where were you when this happened?" Anya snapped. The tone jarred Buffy. There was none of the usual cool detachment, and Anya's usually placid features were wet with tears and glaring at Buffy in rage. "Where were you, Miss Chosen One?"

The blonde girl was stunned. "We couldn't-"

"Humanity's protector..." Anya said with a grunt. "Doesn't your Slayer handbook say something about killing the undead? Xander's lying here attached to all of these wires and tubes because you were too busy having sex with vampires to read that part."

A blast of pain sliced through Buffy's temple, and she shook her head, eyes unfocused. "I'm sorry. I... tried..." The voice trailed off.

Anya was beyond reasoning or sympathy, and she snapped in pure grief, gesturing to the hospital bed. "Where were you!"

There was no response from the Slayer. A few seconds later, the door slammed shut hard. Anya turned her back to the closed door and brought her hands to her face, whispering to herself.

"Where were you."

 

\------

 

The voices echoing down the hospital corridor abruptly hushed as Buffy approached. She didn't need her heightened hearing to know that she was the topic of conversation, and not in a good way. Why not blame her? She was the Slayer, but Xander wasn't the first of her friends to suffer because she couldn't get the job done. Her mind flicked through the battered - or dead - faces; Kendra, Willow, Angel, Giles, Jenny, Faith. Every time Buffy failed, every time she let her heart get in the way, the people she cared about paid the price.

The blonde girl stared at the floor in front of her feet as she moved toward Willow and Giles. "There's no sign of Faith," she said softly. Silence. The Slayer shuddered under her gray jacket. "Have the doctors told you anything?"

More silence. Another bolt of pain made her clutch her head, eyes closed. She didn't have to look up. Her mind painted the picture all too well. They were turning their backs, and that passive accusation tore her apart far more effectively any verbal assault. They were right. "I can't... can't..."

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked up at Giles, another concerned face just behind him. "Buffy, I've arranged for a hospital bed. You're to be admitted immediately."

"Wha?"

"You need medical attention, but more than that you need rest."

Her head was clearing, and she threw his arm away. "My friends are dropping like flies! You can't seriously be sending me to go take a nap." She looked around as Giles gathered his protest. "Where are Wesley and Cordelia?"

The hands clenched her tighter. "Buffy!" Her Watcher's voice was insistent. "You're no match for Faith in this condition. Your duty..."

His words began to swim and reverberate strangely as her equilibrium gave way. Reality melted into a Dali-like montage of liquidity; floors, walls, ceilings warping and bending. Giles' voice was soon joined by others. Light faded in and out for a short time, then she became aware that she was on her back, lying on something soft. She dreamily watched a succession of lights pass overhead as she was whisked down a long hallway.

 

++++++++++

 

"It was a mistake," Wesley said. He glanced to his left to gauge Cordelia's reaction but never broke stride. The streets of Sunnydale were deserted aside from them, which made the conversation even more uncomfortable for the former Watcher.

"I can think of a few other ways to describe it," she said with a smile. She bit her lower lip as he tried to hide a blush by removing his glasses and fidgeting. In some ways it was the same old Wesley, but something was changing. Her lip broke free from her teeth and curved into a smile again. "I don't remember either of us complaining. In fact, there seemed to be quite a lot of... enthusiasm."

Wesley focused on wiping his glasses. He had to keep telling himself that they were on a mission in order to hold some semblance of composure. The fact that Faith's vampirism had barely entered his mind all day was an especially bad sign. Carefully dodging the eyes of the vision at his side, he reminded himself of why the past few days with Cordelia were wrong. It wasn't the age difference - that had never stopped them before. It certainly wasn't modesty. He put his glasses back on and raked a few of the remaining blades of grass out of his hair, relieved that his clothes had suffered no permanent damage from their most recent weak moment.

Cordelia's eyes captured his at last. His pulse quickened, and he realized what felt so wrong about this: She meant something to him. Too much. Yet he could quickly become just another man under her thumb - someone to be used, toyed with, and discarded. Worse still, he didn't care.

The two had moved almost imperceptively closer to each other as he thought. Only now that they were inches apart did either notice. It was a cool night, and Wesley could feel her soft breath landing near the nape of his neck, the warmth of her body radiating across the short distance. Her blouse and hair were still a bit disheveled, and her breath shook with desire. "We should... we must focus on the task at hand," he said.

"Yes," she nodded solemnly.

There was a moment of silence. Then the two were a tangle of limbs, rolling in the grass of a public park. Wesley let it all slip away again - the pain of his past, the concerns of duty, the fear of being lost in her. He relented to Cordelia's desperate arms, which were pulling him further and further away from reality. Their twisting bodies rolled into the thick sole of a boot.

"Here's a real Hallmark moment. I'm torn, should I charge admission or just hose you two down?"

The pair disentangled themselves and scrambled to their feet, stumbling backward away from an amused Faith. Wesley pulled Cordelia behind him as she busied herself with adjusting her most essential clothing.

"You might want to ask for some I.D. next time, Wesley. Then again, maybe you don't."

The words were Faith's, but the voice was slightly different; richer, confident and icy without the slightest hint of the emotional torment that had always seemed to boil just beneath the surface. Her face was pale skin and glinting eyes, and her tight feminine body moved like a serpent. She was Faith with the volume turned up, more dangerous and alluring than ever, her conscience replaced by a coiled, evil gleam. Her former Watcher's hand twitched at his side as he measured the distance to his jacket. He turned his chin slightly to Cordelia and whispered, his voice barely more than a mouthed exhale. "Get ready to run."

"What?" Cordelia whispered back.

Wesley opened his mouth, but it was Faith who replied. "He said to run, and I really hope you do. It's so much more fun that way."

Both looked at the vampire in surprise. _Slayer hearing._ Somewhere deep down, Wesley had suspected she might retain some of her Slayer powers. It explained too much. Still, the reality of it in front of him made him nauseous with fear. His body fought him as he inched forward with his eyes on the vampire, keeping Cordelia at arm's length behind him. He opened his dry mouth and spoke, more to reassure himself than to intimidate Faith. "They're all coming for you. There's no escape."

"Look who's talking," she smiled coldly. "Oh, did you mean these doofs?" Reaching into her leather pants, she pulled out a metal insignia that Wesley recognized with a chill - the symbol of the Council's special operations team. She examined the small piece of metal with curiosity. "Yeah, they came for me. It was a little too quick for my taste, though. Unsatisfying." She tossed it aside and looked at her ex-Watcher, who was still taking baby steps forward. "Would you like to come for me, Wesley?"

His foot had found its way under his jacket, which lay discarded on the grass. With a trembling hand, he gave a final push and screamed at Cordelia. "Now!" A kick brought the jacket into the air in front of him as Cordelia broke contact with his hand and sprinted away. Wesley caught the jacket with his left hand, slid a fumbling right hand into the inside pocket, and pulled out a stake.

He never saw Faith move. One second he had the stake tightly in hand, the next he couldn't breathe as her hand clamped around his throat like a vice. Both of his arms fought the grip for oxygen, but his life-or-death flailing fell like feathers on steel. Flashes of light began to distort his vision, the dark green park swaying from side to side. At last his arms went limp, and the stake slid from his fingers.

 

\------

 

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce knew what it was to be alone. To trust, and try, and be cast aside time and again; worthless and empty with nothing to mark the months and years of silent torture, nothing except the festering grief of the past, the first betrayal. Truly alone.

In time he found his escape was just the closest library away. Research was his gift. In that, he never failed - the kind of research he did on Faith while she was in jail. He found more than he could have hoped: a trail of documents, city records, school expulsions, police reports, and failed adoptions. He told no one what he discovered about the girl's past, not even Angel. Faith's trust was an elusive prize. But from that day on he knew her life, and he understood.

 

\-----

 

Wesley's eyes fluttered open to the pain of the here-and-now as the vampire's fingers shifted to allow just enough oxygen to his brain to keep him awake.

"Alone at last," she said. "Hey, you dropped something." She bent and picked up the stake, her grip loosening, and he gulped down air as fast as his wounded windpipe could take it in. She straightened and looked at his straining mouth, caressing his face with the hand that had throttled it moments before. "Speechless, huh? Our big moment and suddenly you're the strong, silent type. I have to say, I like the new you." She seemed distracted with something as she spoke. Then the stake came into view. The vampire laid the tip at the base of her own throat - almost hard enough to draw blood - and began to slide it down, tracing a path between the mounds of her breasts and stopping over her heart. "Do you like the new me?"

Wesley abandoned his quest for air and resigned himself to what was about to happen. The few breaths he had worked so hard to attain came out in a rasp. "I knew Faith. She was a tortured soul. All the world gave her was pain. You took what was left." By the end it was a statement without sound, no air behind it, but it could have been as loud as a scream.

The vampire stopped moving, her face fraught with confusion. There was a look he had seen before, conflict mixed with fear. For just an instant - briefly enough for Wesley to believe he only imagined it - the hand on his face flashed warm. Then the moment was gone, and the merciless gleam returned as her icy touch moved down his neck.

"I suppose I should thank you, Wesley." Her face was set, but a hint of the torment remained as murderous hands lightly toyed with his collar. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be who I am today."

She gathered up his shirt in both hands and pulled him to her, kissing him roughly through his heavy gasps. With a burst of movement, she tore his shirt to the navel and slid the stake down his chest, looking him over in vamp face. "And what says 'thank you' better than a good impaling?" she said huskily.

Cordelia's voice came from behind her. "You know, you have some serious communication issues."

At the first word, Faith dropped Wesley and spun with blinding speed, narrowly avoiding the stake swung by a large figure that was not Cordelia. A roaring backhand followed and landed solidly, sending the dark Slayer sprawling. The figure turned to Cordelia and gave a disapproving look. Not only had she followed him here against his advice, her quip had nearly cost them their lives. "Was the comment really necessary?" Angel said.

"Well she shouldn't set me up like that."

Angel sighed in frustration and looked back to Faith, who had long since regained her feet but had made no move to close the distance. Without turning away from his progeny, Angel addressed Wesley. "Take her and get out of here."

"Thanks, but she's not really my type," Faith said, quickly looking Cordelia up and down. "Maybe if I didn't have to listen that voice."

"What's wrong with my voice?" came Cordelia's sharp reply.

"Let's just say that if I couldn't shake that Daddy's-little-girl whine by the time I was your age, I'd be popping hormones like Tic Tacs," Faith said.

Angel's eyes had never left Faith. "I said get her out of here," he bellowed at Wesley.

The former Watcher, still rubbing his throat, interrupted the girl's silent shock and pulled her toward the street. She turned her outrage to him. "I have a nice voice! Don't you think I have a nice voice? I have a great voice."

As he walked her away, Wesley looked over his shoulder at Faith. Even now he could see that the confusion lingered in his former charge. Perhaps Angel could see that too. Perhaps there was hope.

"Hey, Wesley," Faith said, following his gaze across the park. "Next time, no foreplay."

"There won't be a next time, Faith," Angel said as Wesley and Cordelia disappeared behind him. "It ends here."

"Ooh, I love it when you play rough. When you're bad, you're so good." She was slowly closing on him as she spoke. "Think you've got what it takes to do me twice, killer?"

The word made Angel's barely restrained guilt churn once again. Something else broke through the barriers he had built during the past few days as well: The body that stood in front of him was an empty shell, only a shadow of the shattered soul he had tried to mend. What he had found - redemption, love - was all ashes now. This was all that remained of Faith. _It ends here._

Even though he was poised and waiting, she almost reached him before he was ready. A sudden movement and she was nearly within arm's reach. At the last instant he spun and dropped to the ground, kicking her right boot with all of his strength. The two had fought before, but Faith hadn't seen this. Angel only used the move to kill vampires, and that's what he intended to do now.

Rolling through his kick, he heard the clump of her fall and then immediately felt the crushing weight of her forearm across his neck.

"Wicked cool move! Mind if I use it sometime?" His mind reeled. Nothing was that fast, not even a Slayer. "I'll take that as a yes," Faith said, pulling the stake from her leather pants. "I don't think you'll need it anyway."

The battle was over as fast as it had begun. Angel saw the stake raised above him and knew this is how it would end. He found himself lost in regret. There was too much left undone, unsaid. Or was this what he had wanted all along? His final moments; there was no more time. "I'm sorry," he whispered through closed eyes.

Then he waited, but the blow never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Faith was frozen above him, stake still raised. Her face shook, and her eyes were wide with confusion.

"Faith?" he mouthed. Her face began to harden. Her hand steadied. Without hesitation, Angel's fist smashed across her jaw and sent her tumbling.

By the time he made it to his feet, the dark Slayer was gone.

++++++++++

Giles turned another well-worn page and followed his finger through its ancient text. Only the tick-tock of an old clock broke the silence of his apartment, but he found himself unable to concentrate. His thoughts kept returning to Buffy's hospital room and the favor he'd called in to ensure her safety. If what he was beginning to suspect about Faith was true, they couldn't rely on the invitation barrier. Even the guard he had placed at Buffy's door gave him no peace of mind.

He knotted his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing he had read the same passage four times and still didn't know what it said. After filtering through stacks of text he had only found a few vague references to the prophecy he was looking for - one he had hidden from Buffy, one he hoped he would never have to reveal. The Council would have said that was a mistake, and perhaps it was. One of many.

Or perhaps he just needed something to help him relax. Giles found himself staring at a decanter on a nearby shelf.

A heavy slam jolted away his thoughts, and he turned wide eyes to Willow. The girl stood stiffly in front of a stack of books that was at least half her height and looked back with an apologetic cringe.

"Sorry," she said. "The books were really heavy, and then, suddenly, they weren't. Less noisyness, more reading."

Giles took a deep breath. Even in his distracted state he could see the girl was making a mighty effort to conceal her concerns about Xander; she had developed the habit of removing a heart-shaped pendant Tara had given her and tracing it with her fingers when her mind was elsewhere. "It's not your fault, Willow. I'm just a bit... on edge. Have you found anything?"

"Not much." She dug one of the books out of the pile and began leafing through it. "It-it all just says the same thing. It's all 'Oh, by the way one day a Slayer will turn into a vampire and everything will be bad.' Then it goes back to the same old stuff; Hellmouth, demons, apocalypse, blah, blah, blah." She stopped on a yellowed page in the thick book. "Here."

Giles peered down through his glasses and read. "It is prophecized that one who is chosen and one who is turned, light and dark, shall alter the course of destiny."

A chill shot through him as he finished the passage. Could this mean Buffy and Faith? Angel and Faith? "Oh dear."

Willow looked up with concern, her face going pale after seeing Giles' expression. "How worried should we be?"

Anya rounded the corner in a huff. "I couldn't sleep. It's too quiet, and it smells like old books. And I kept thinking about Xander."

Willow went even more pale. "I-I'm sure he'll be alright. Right?" She looked back at Giles.

"I don't understand why I couldn't stay at the hospital," Anya said.

Giles, who was still rereading the prophecy, blinked in frustration and spoke quickly. "Visitors are only allowed to stay with patients in Xander's condition for a certain amount of time."

There was a pause as Giles resumed reading. "Shouldn't we do something?" Anya said insistently.

Giles responded without looking up. "All we can do now is to... to try to help from here. Anya, perhaps you should sit down and, um, read something."

"Well I don't see how that's going to help," she said.

"I think that's more for Giles than for Xander," Willow said. "There's this whole big thing with noise today."

Anya reluctantly perched herself on the sofa, arms still folded across her chest.

"It's a bit vague, but the prophecy appears to confirm Angel's information," Giles said. "And the attempt to curse Faith failed, as he predicted."

"So what's next?" Willow said hopefully.

Giles looked distracted again. "I'm not entirely certain. We appear to be running out of options."

The door swung open and Spike walked in, head lowered. He was so involved in lighting a cigarette that he had nearly bumped into Giles before he raised his eyes. Three silent faces pondered him in a way that he had seen all too often lately.

"Oh, shove off. I've done my good deed for today," he said, gesturing to the nose Buffy had punched.

"Yes, of course," Giles said, returning to the book. "You're quite the samaritan."

Willow clutched the pendant in a fist as her voice started, peppered with a shaky anger. "You could have... you can help us stop this. Xander helped you when he didn't have to. How can you just stand there and not care?"

"Right, let's see. I can do it like this," Spike said, putting his hands on his hips and letting the cigarette dangle. "Or maybe like this." He struck an exaggerated department store mannequin pose. "Or then there's this-"

Giles, quickly losing his grip on his fraying patience, spoke softly but sternly. "That's enough." Willow swallowed her next comment, and Spike gave a dismissive gesture and plopped down to read a magazine.

Anya sprang from her seat. "It doesn't look like we're doing anything at all. Can't we just go kill her?"

"That's easier said than done, love," Spike said, as Giles and Willow returned to discussing the prophecy. "The girl's faster and stronger than any Slayer or demon I've ever seen. Pretty easy on the eyes too, a fact that wasn't lost on your boy."

Anya's gaze fell to the carpet, and she slowly sat again. "What do you mean?"

Spike was doing his best to look disinterested, but he relished every word. "Just that he wasn't putting up much of a fight, if you get my meaning. It was more than blood she was after from the looks of it, and he was ready to hand it over on a big silver platter. Can't say I blame him, though. If some bloke finds her in the dark somewhere he's not exactly going to run away screaming. That is one of Xander's favorite pastimes, but there are some things he's a even more fond of." Spike turned a page in his magazine, having not read a word, and smirked.

"Ah, here we are," Giles said, reading from another book. "Curious. 'One becomes two, two becomes one...' Either the prophet had a sense of humor or this was intended as some sort of riddle. It seems purposely cryptic."

"I'm thinking your average prophet is an unfunny person," Willow said. "But I've never met one or anything, and it's wrong to prejudge."

Giles began to read again but abruptly stopped, cocking his head in a question. "Did you hear something?"

The room fell silent, and a soft but unmistakable series of sounds began to drift through the door; a bump, a rustle of leaves, the creak of weight against the apartment wall. Giles grabbed the stake he kept hidden in a desk drawer and moved toward the door, Anya and Willow close behind. Spike kept reading his magazine.

Giles walked slowly, the sounds getting louder with every step. What stood beyond that door could well be a challenge too great for a Slayer, and their only protection was a foolhardy Watcher. He corrected himself. Former Watcher. Still, his hand found the doorknob and flung it open to the surprise of a startled couple. Wesley and Cordelia quickly broke off their passionate kiss and moved away from the door as Willow's pendant clinked to the ground. "Does anybody else wish it had been the vampire?" Willow said.

Cordelia looked away and fidgeted, and for a moment the only sound was Wesley clearing his throat and making several false starts at an explanation. "Faith!" Wesley managed at last. "We found Faith. We were..." He paused.

"...in the park," Cordelia offered, turning them both red for some reason.

"Patrolling, of course," Wesley said, as Anya, Giles, and Willow's eyes bounced back and forth between them like a tennis match. "When Faith interrupted... I mean-"

"Yes, well, we were just discussing our next, um, move," Giles said hurriedly. "Would you care to come in?"

"By all means," said a relieved Wesley, following them back inside.

"Wait, I thought you two were going to meet Angel," Willow said. "Did you see him? Maybe something happened to him."

Wesley began clearing his throat and stammering again. "Well..."

Nearly as soon as the door closed, there was knock. "Another vampire, I suppose," Giles said. Wesley turned and opened the door, grateful for the reprieve.

"Faith's gone," Angel said. "There's no sign of her."

"That's a good thing, right?" Willow said.

"There's more," Angel said, stepping inside. "She's... different."

"There's a newsflash," Cordelia muttered, getting another chastising look from Angel.

"Yes, her Slayer abilities remain at least partially intact," Wesley said. "I noticed this as well."

"I'd say it's a good bet that she's twice as fast and strong as she was before," Angel said. His brooding brow darkened. "But that's not what I mean. There's something more important - the reason curse didn't work, the reason she rose so fast, probably the reason I'm still here-"

Wesley's eyes grew large as he listened, and his mind put the last piece of the puzzle in place. "Faith is still alive."

"But-but she's a vampire," Willow said. "That means you're dead. Well, unless some trashy version of you from another universe shows up and starts walking around licking people, but with Faith how could you tell?"

Giles, who had been digesting all of this, lifted a finger. "Her calling... If she were somehow protected during the transformation... Of course. The curse must have failed because Faith's soul still resides in her body."

"Along with a demon," Angel added. "Her body is on the verge of death, which must be why the demon has so much control."

"If this were the case, Faith's Slayer resilience might be enough to keep her alive," Giles said. "However, if the demon remains it's only a matter of time before her body dies."

"And then so does Faith's humanity," Angel said. The monster that Angel was, he had known all of this to be true when he turned Faith. He knew what would happen if he drained the right amount of blood, and that's exactly what he wanted - twice the power and just enough hope to make the blade cut deeper.

"None of this matters," Anya said matter-of-factly. "She hurt Xander, and now she has to die." A snicker from Spike went almost unnoticed as the phone began to ring.

"Anya, this isn't helping," Giles pleaded as he picked up the receiver.

"I don't believe you," Cordelia said, taking what had apparently been an ongoing debate between her and Wesley to another volume level. She turned to Anya. "If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?"

Anya only looked back with raised eyebrows.

"How would you describe my voice?" Cordelia said.

The phone clattered to the floor, receiver first, halting the conversation and turning all eyes to Giles. The Watcher stood limply for a moment with a blank stare, then began to rush around the apartment gathering weapons.

"What is it?" Angel asked at last.

"Buffy has been... taken," Giles said. "Our guard was found unconscious. Her-her bed was empty."

The room fell silent.

"**Thank you**," Spike said with exaggerated relief. "I guess a Slayer has to die before you can get some bloody quiet around here. If you ask me, it was worth-"

"We didn't," Angel said, barely controlling his anger. "Giles, this isn't your fight. You know I'm the one who should go."

"Quickly then, to the Angelmobile," Spike muttered as he returned to reading.

"It's my responsibility," Giles replied. He closed the bag, now stocked with stakes, crosses, and more conventional weapons, and brushed past Angel and a speechless Willow before meeting Wesley at the door.

"I'm coming with you," Wesley said.

Giles shook his head. "She's my-"

"Responsibility?" Wesley finished. "I know, Rupert. I know. I'm coming with you."

Angel sighed. "OK, you two see if you can find out anything at the hospital. I have a few ideas about where Faith might be. Remember, it's important that we find her before-" He abruptly broke off at a sudden realization. "Willow? Willow, we have to talk about-"

"Buffy!" As Angel spoke, Giles had opened the door and come face-to-face with his Slayer. He dropped his bag and threw his arms around the disoriented-looking blonde girl on his doorstep. "I thought I had lost you," Giles cracked as his relief flowed out in tears.

"Nope, not lost," Buffy said, hugging him back. "Just a little damp."

"Are you alright?" Angel said.

"Better than I should be," she said, walking inside and taking off her gray jacket. "That guard was a real creampuff. Where do they get those guys?"

"Well, um..." Giles fumbled.

"Bottom line: naptime's over and Buffy's ready for the big bad," she said. "Anyone care to catch me up?"

"Oh - Faith's still alive! But evil. I mean, more evil than usual. And a vampire," Willow said. "There's a prophecy that sounds really unfun, this thing with too much noise, and some really disturbing doorstep kissage."

Buffy looked noticeably less sturdy as she heard all of this. "I-I must still be out of it because I thought you just said that Faith is alive."

"Yes, it would appear so," Giles said. "However, the demon inside her seems to be the dominant force at the moment, and we have no guarantee that she will even-"

"But there's still a chance to save her," the Slayer said, almost as if she were still afraid to let herself believe it. Her world seemed a much different place than it was a few seconds ago.

"I think all of you are missing the point," Anya said. "That girl is out there killing people. She put Xander in the hospital, and now you're all more concerned about how you can save her than you are about stopping her."

"And she's just being unbelievably rude," Cordelia added, derailing Anya's train of thought.

"Anya, please," Giles said, motioning to the sofa. The girl stormed across the room and sat down like a sulking child - next to a grinning Spike who had discarded his magazine in favor of a wadded-up piece of notebook paper he had found on the floor. The blonde vampire carefully folded the paper and sat it in front of Anya with a long smile, then walked out of the room.

Willow watched with anxiety as the group debated their next step, and she felt for the solid warmth of her pendant. As her searching hand found nothing, another knock came from the door.

"Will someone please bolt that door," Giles said as Willow opened it.

"Oz." Willow went breathless when she saw the blue-haired figure in the doorway.

"Hi, Will." He met her eyes, smiled slightly and held out his palm. Her heart pendant rested inside. "Um, I found this out here. It has your name on it."

Willow embraced him with closed eyes. Suddenly the world made sense again. Oz was here and so was she, and that's all either of them needed. Then she opened her eyes and saw the young Asian girl standing behind him. "Will," Oz said, pulling away, "this is Miranda."

"Hello," Miranda said dryly. "I've heard a lot about you."

The redheaded witch felt as though a bucket of icewater had been dumped over her head. Wounded and embarrassed, she examined the girl; she was small, slight, and tan, but her eyes flashed with something deeper. "Let me guess, you're a wolf, right?" Willow said, with a lot more venom than she intended. "See, he only dates wolves now. Oh, it has nothing to do with you. It's this sick thing he can't control."

Miranda looked as if she had been slapped and turned to Oz. "We're here to help," Oz said.

Willow's vision had become so distorted with anger that she was sure her stare could burn a hole right through the other girl.

"Can... we come in?" Oz said.

Angel was already pulling Willow back into the apartment as Giles welcomed the couple. "I'm sorry," Angel whispered to the witch. "I meant to tell you." Willow caught a sympathetic look from Buffy then went back to staring at the Asian girl, who avoided her gaze.

"It's great to see you, Oz," Buffy said as she hugged him. "But your timing needs some work."

"Angel asked me to come," he replied, then turned to address the group. "I heard about what's going on with Faith." His eyes darted quickly to Miranda, and he dug into his jacket to pull out a small wooden crest in the shape of a pentagon. "Thought this might help."

Giles took the ornately carved symbol and examined it. "The Crest of Amahn... If I recall correctly, this is reputed to strengthen the spirit."

"Yeah, I got it from a monk in Budapest. They used it to help achieve inner peace, for crossing hot coals and that kinda thing. It was wild some of the stuff they could do with it. I more or less just use it for-"

Willow continued to stare at Miranda. "For more control right? To stop the weird animal stuff? Because if that's it, I think you need a new crest-thingy." Miranda shifted her weight but kept quiet, and the rest of the group tried to pretend they hadn't heard Willow's comment.

Wesley had been searching a stack of books on the reading table. "There is an incantation - 13th century, I believe - that is specific to this talisman. The spell brings the effect to a focal point, sharpening and enhancing its spiritual powers."

"I know about that," Oz said. "I can walk you through it, but you have to have a focus..." He glanced quickly to Willow, who was still looking at Miranda.

Giles nodded and turned to Buffy. "In theory that could apply to Faith's condition, but this is all a very unsteady foundation on which to base any sort of plan. Faith is still deadly, and we have no assurance that she will ever be otherwise."

Buffy looked down at her shoes, numb. She didn't want to give herself hope - to think about that rooftop again. Even as the tense silence settled in, Anya's soft sobs went unnoticed, as did her sudden departure from the room with a mangled piece of notebook paper in hand.

Buffy looked up at Giles. "We have to try," she said. She had pulled Faith back from the edge once, and no matter what it took - no matter what price she had to pay - she would do it again. "What other choice do we have?"

"Well, we could, I dunno, all go out and pick up some little werewolf floozy and see how that works out," Willow said.

Miranda returned Willow's glare at last. "Listen sweetie, if you're going to try to insult me at least make an effort." Miranda imitated the witch's voice. "Ooh, well, I think, maybe you sorta suck, but I dunno. Spit it out already!"

"I... don't sound like that," Willow said in a small voice.

"See?" Cordelia said triumphantly to Wesley, who was trying to act as if he were still reading the book. "People just exaggerate."

"Miranda," Oz began.

"No, I'm really curious. I know you said she was a little nerdy; nerdy I can take. But does she always talk like a stammering, wishy washy dolt?"

"Maybe I should go," Willow said, barely audible now. In fact, no one heard.

"And don't even get me started on the clothes..."

Willow shrank back toward the wall and looked away. "Ooh, the gloves are off now," Cordelia said as Buffy motioned for Oz to intervene. He moved forward and put a hand on Miranda's shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

"You know what? When you're done with the ex from hell, give me a call," Miranda said. "Until then, you can hang on to this." She pulled a ring off her finger and dropped it as she left the apartment to a slamming door.

The room was still for a moment, then Willow burst into tears and ran for the door as well. "Will, wait!" called Oz, as the witch slipped out. Oz turned quickly to Buffy. "I'll make sure she gets home." The door shut again, and Oz was gone, calling after the redhead.

"So, how many people does this plan take again?" Cordelia said.

"Just me," a suddenly resolute Buffy said. This time no one else was going to get hurt because she couldn't do what had to be done. This time, she was going to be the Slayer. "It's time to go to war."

 

++++++++++

 

Anya rose from the triangle of candles, feeling the power of the spell surge through her. There would be a reckoning one day, a time when she would pay a heavy price for that power. But she didn't care.

And that's what D'Hoffryn liked most.

 

++++++++++

 

Xander couldn't remember how long he had been trapped in the darkened hulk of Sunnydale High School. Maybe forever. It seemed somehow bigger now; a labrynth of scarred walls, barren hallways, and empty lockers. But it was still a prison.

A faint glow beckoned through double doors, and he broke into a sprint. He was there in an instant, meeting them headfirst with a jarring smack - locked, just like all of the others. For a moment he stood peering through the glass at the fuzzy light beyond. A warmth seemed to seep through from the outside. Someone was calling to him.

He slammed his hands against the doors in frustration, and a metallic rattle echoed through the empty hallway. "Oh, c'mon!" As the echo died away he heard something else take its place; a whisper of hushed voices from somewhere behind him, somewhere inside.

"Hello?" No answer. He took a few tentative steps down the hallway. Empty classrooms passed slowly on either side. "I think I should warn you, if you're something of the undead persuasion-" Xander suddenly realized that the next door was the library, and his voice grew quiet. "-you're in exactly the right place." He stopped in front of the door and listened. The voices were definitely coming from the other side. He reached for the doorknob, almost hoping for another lock, but this time it turned.

It took Xander's eyes a few seconds to adjust to the room, which was even darker than the hallway. He was already reeling from a thick, musty smell of mildew when he saw Willow. She sat on a stool in the middle of the ruined room calmly reading a book. That, however, wasn't the most peculiar thing about Willow at the moment. A blonde vampire stood behind her, tearing vigorously at her neck. The redhead didn't seem bothered by this at all as she greeted him with a smile.

"Xander! Hi!"

"Will, you've got a little something..." He pointed to his neck.

"You mean Tara? It'll only hurt for a little while. Oh, did you want a bite?"

Willow pushed the blonde away with some effort to offer the wound to Xander. Tara faced him now. Her full, human lips dripped with blood, and her hair was stained a dark crimson where it swayed over the other girl's neck. "She's delicious," Tara said, licking her lips.

Xander felt sick. "No thanks. I'm trying to cut down on Willow blood. Besides, I have to... go be somewhere else now."

"Oh, right. The test," Willow said as Tara resumed her feeding. "Hey, what happened? I thought we were going to study together. You weren't there."

"Study? Test? I think you might be a little confused, what with the vampire sucking and all."

Willow smiled. "It's OK. I found someone else to study with."

Xander felt a sinking feeling inside and, unable to weather the assault on his senses any longer, turned to the door. "Yeah, OK, Will. Good luck with that test or whatever."

There was a reply but Xander was already bolting out the door. Or was it bolting in? As he rushed through, he found himself staring into a dark classroom. This one was full. Full of snarling vampires, to be precise, all sitting neatly in desks. And all looking at him now. He quickly decided that the library wasn't such a bad place after all.

"Mr. Harris?"

It wasn't until then that he looked to the front of the class. The first thing he saw was black stockings, then a black skirt with a very long slit, followed by a white button-up blouse. Finally he found Buffy's eyes, which were chiding him from behind round glasses, her hair pinned messily behind her head.

"Do you have something to share with the class?" Buffy said.

Xander just stared.

"Mr. Harris? Your homework? Wanna share?"

"Um..." He gave another nervous glance to the vampires.

"Oh don't worry about them. They won't bite." Buffy nodded to the class, which was now occupied only by empty desks. "Me, on the other hand..."

Xander did a double take and turned feverishly back to Buffy. "I-I don't think I can. Share, that is."

She unpinned her hair, and blonde locks fell across her shoulders. "Would you do it for a Scooby snack?" He watched in silence as she undid the top three buttons of her blouse, showing a glimpse of her bra. She hesitated then, waiting for a response, but he stood frozen.

A voice came from the back of the classroom. "Would you do it for two Scooby snacks?" Faith, dressed identically, walked out of the shadows and moved to stand behind Buffy.

"Is this a trick question?"

"Maybe," Faith answered. The gaze of both Slayers were locked on Xander as Faith's hand slid up Buffy's leg. "What did you have in mind?"

Before Xander could answer, a bell began to ring just over his head. The sound was so loud he clutched his ears and dropped to his knees. His hands didn't seem to dull the sound at all. All at once, the bell was gone.

"Are you finished?" Anya sat at a desk next to him. "It's almost time."

Xander rose with a confused expression, realizing that he was in his basement. There were two desks in the small room, Anya's and an empty one beside her. "Time?" he said.

"I used my number two pencil and everything," she said proudly. "Didn't even have to cheat. What about you?"

It was then that he felt a crinkled piece of notebook paper in his hand. He pulled it smooth to read, but it was blank. Anya stuck out her bottom lip in a sympathetic pout.

"Time's up. Pencils down, please," Giles said from somewhere out of sight. Xander looked around the room but saw no one there. When he looked back to Anya, she was gone as well. A door rattled at the top of the stairs then was silent.

He darted up the stairs - only to meet another locked door - and turned back to the empty room. "Hello?" No answer.

Xander didn't know how long he had been here. Maybe forever.

 

++++++++++

 

Oz and Willow had walked side by side in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Her cheeks were swollen and red from tears, his blistered pink by the brisk air. There had been a brief embrace when he caught the fleeing witch, but no words passed between them. Blocks later, the stillness lingered.

It was Oz who spoke first. "You know, I think if I said something and then you said something, we'd be talking to each other. Just this crazy theory I have."

"I was wrong," Willow blurted out, as if it would explode from her if she didn't. "I just saw you and then - and then I saw her, and I just went all Alanis. I had no right. I mean, I have my life, such as it is, and you have yours..." She looked as if she might go on, but a slight smile from Oz stopped her.

"Well, you were right about one thing," he said. "She is a wolf."

"See, I don't need to know this. None of my business. This is me not hearing."

"It's not what you think. Not like the way it was with Veruca," Oz said softly. "I'm still in control." Willow felt her heart drop as she absorbed this. The blow must have shown on her face because Oz quickly added, "Oh, it's not really like that, either."

"Then why... There was a ring, and 'this is Miranda,' and-"

"One night a few months ago we were playing this place in L.A. I knew I was taking a chance, but it was this really great gig, could've been a real break. I couldn't turn it down. No way." He paused and swallowed down the bitter taste of guilt before continuing. "It was wolf time and we were on the road, which meant no cage. The thing I had set up with this guy in the band didn't exactly work out. I got out."

"You made Miranda a..." The witch's cheeks flushed an even deeper red as she began to understand the nature of their relationship. "Oh."

"I stayed with her, made sure she got better, explained it all. She's kind of my responsibility now, you know?"

"Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going around lately."

 

\------

 

Wesley leaned forward even farther before his whisper became insistent. "But surely you must agree after what you've heard that she is no match for Faith, especially in her condition. You know as well as I do, Rupert, that this is a suicide mission."

"Yes, but perhaps the incantation-" Giles began.

"That's a big-" Wesley cut himself off as he realized his voice had drawn the attention of the others in the apartment. He continued in a whisper. "That is a very big 'if,' and you know it."

Giles didn't need to hear this. Every ounce of him, every instinct, was telling him the same thing long before Wesley pulled him aside. However, he had seen this look from Buffy before, and he knew what it meant. "All we need from Buffy is a little time."

"That may be all she has."

"What would you have me do, Wesley? Demand that she sit idly by and wait for Faith to come to her? I believe in her - in her ability, her resourcefulness. She has faced odds more overwhelming than this and triumphed. I believe that she can do it again." Giles smiled slightly. He did believe it. "Anyway," he sighed, "the girl can be a bit... stubborn at times."

"Is that the word you use for it?" Spike said. The Watchers were surprised to see that the room was now empty aside from the blond vampire.

"Where is everyone?" Giles asked.

Spike answered without turning to face them. "Blondie's gone, stage right. And, if I may say, it's a rare pleasure to see you two in action. Ever heard of Slayer hearing? Guess that's why they sacked you. Oh, and the big, brooding one left with my Cordy a few minutes back. Said something about that spirit spell thing. This should be quite the show."

"Spike, don't take this the wrong way, but get out," Giles said.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Spike said, as he shoved another Weetabix into his mouth and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. "I know when I'm not wanted."

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as the silence was punctuated by the tick of the old clock and the crunch of Weetabix.

 

\-----

 

The bickering voices that had been drifting through the door ceased at last, and Anya began to chant in earnest. She had balked when D'Hoffryn told her she needed no power center for this spell, that her rage alone would be enough. She should have known better than to doubt him.

Images of Xander raced through her mind; lying in his hospital bed, in a bloody heap on the carpet, being attacked by Faith. With Faith. Her eyes glowed a bright crimson.

"Be made flesh

As pain begins

No human heart

Remains within

My vengeful cry

My mind's design

Be justice done

My will be thine"

\------

 

Willow and Oz talked freely, exchanging warm smiles and a year's worth of memories as they walked. Willow had forgotten how easy it was to be around Oz, how easy it was to forget that he was another person and not just an extension of herself. It seemed so natural.

The redhead sighed deeply through her beaming grin and realized they were standing on the steps of her dorm building. "Well, here we are." For a few moments they shared a contented silence.

"You could stay," Willow said, as if the idea had just occurred to her.

"No, I couldn't," Oz said. "Not now." The witch knew the words had a deeper meaning. She understood, but still felt as if a healing wound had been ripped open. "Now isn't the time," he said softly.

Oz was here but he suddenly seemed a million miles away, and the ache inside her that had been eased for a few blissful minutes now felt like a yawning chasm of loneliness. The first drops of a cold rain began to fall as the redhead fought to hide the fact that she was on the verge of tears.

Oz's hand brushed her face. "Look, I should head back. Giles and the others, they'll need me to get started." He started to turn, stopped, and smiled at Willow. "You were right about something else, you know-"

"Oz!" Willow screamed as his head lurched forward to a cracking sound. His body buckled and fell, revealing Faith standing behind him. Her elbow was still extended where the back of his head had been, her eyes following his unconscious body to the ground. When the vampire threw her hair back and looked up to Willow's panic-stricken face, she met the shock with a snort.

"I hate to break it to you girl, but the bite-size boyfriend's no big loss. Anyway, I'd say you have more important things to worry about."

The panic quickly turned to horror, and Willow stumbled back before turning to run. Her legs pounded haphazardly across the thick grass, falling in the chaotic rhythm of her heart. Wet wind whipped past her ears, and she stole a look over her shoulder but tears, rain, and terror had nearly blinded her. She made out a dark silhouette closing impossibly fast, then a waist-high hedge sent her headfirst to the ground, where she lay heaving raspy breaths. The rain was pounding down in sheets now, and her feet kicked in vain for traction on the slick grass.

Faith snatched her up by the neck of her billowing sweater. Willow lashed out with both hands, hitting nothing but air and sending her own body spinning in Faith's grip, before the vampire brought a fist down across her cheek with a wet smack. Then she just hung dangling in her sweater like a marionette, her knees crooked like a newborn pony trying to stand.

The vampire clasped the girl's head in both hands, forced open her eyes, and screamed into her face. "Look at me!" Willow's eyes rolled back into her head then came forward again. The dark-haired girl slapped her lightly. "Stay with me. It's not bedtime yet." The heavy-lidded eyes blinked twice and cleared slightly, and Faith smiled. "That's better."

"What do you... where..."

Faith clasped a hand over Willow's mouth and spun her so that she faced away. "You've done enough talking - enough whining." Willow's scream squeaked through Faith's hand as the dark Slayer pinned an arm up her back and bent her body backward. "Ooh, poor me," Faith said, looking at her terrified face. "I've got a family, I've got friends. I've got everybody and their sister in love with me, but life sucks because I can't figure out which one I'd rather be with. Poor little witch girl." As she spoke, she scowled in rage and bent the quivering girl at an ever sharper angle.

"Oh yeah, everybody loves Willow. Sweet, perfect Willow, who would never hurt a fly. Poor, innocent Willow, who made sure I knew that I could never have a life like hers; that all my pain meant nothing. That I was nothing. How did you put it? Worthless. A waste." Faith snapped off each word with a hiss. "Wanna see how it feels?"

"Sun... coming up soon," Willow managed through the hand.

"Not for you."

"Faith!"

The vampire whirled with her victim to face Buffy. "I'm kinda in the middle of something here, B. Just let me gut your friend, and I'll be right with you."

"Wait!" Buffy said. "Let her go and you can have me. I won't fight you." She pulled out a stake and dropped it to the ground.

Willow's muffled protest turned into another squeaked scream as Faith jerked the witch's head back. "But that'd take all the fun out of it," the dark Slayer said. "Besides, I'm kinda enjoying this."

Buffy took a deep breath. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way. Yet she was surprised at how easy the decision was. She had expected her feelings for the redeemed Slayer and her memories of the rooftop to cloud her judgment. But she remembered only violence, she felt only malice, and she was more than willing to dish out a little Buffy-style payback right about now.

Faith discarded the redhead as the blonde Slayer sprang at her. A lunging kick caught the outside of the vampire's right knee and threw her off balance for an instant. Buffy whirled into a backhand that might have dropped the dark Slayer, but Faith slipped the blow and landed a crushing left hook that sent the blonde girl spinning to the ground, wet hair whipping across her face.

Buffy was stunned by the force of the other Slayer's punch. One shot had left her holding onto a thin thread of consciousness. Faith stood with her arms folded across her chest, waiting as Buffy staggered to her feet, stumbled backward, and fell to a seat with a splash.

"You always did have to get your way, didn't you? Well, if you insist..." The dark Slayer went into vamp face and slammed the girl's spinning head with a roar. Her body went limp.

Faith looked up at the rain and closed her eyes. Something inside her was struggling, asking quickly forgotten questions. It rebelled at the sight of the limp body in front of her; at the rain on her face; at the memory of what she had done. At all of this, the vampire laughed - a long, deep, taunting laugh - and let the rain wash over her.

The cries for mercy were almost gone; soon the boundaries would fall and she could go beyond the dark desires that fear and pain had once spawned in this pitiful heart without losing control. She was getting stronger.

 

++++++++++

Wesley wiped his brow as he bent a burning candle to touch one of the few that remained unlit. The act had become repetitive amid the hot glow of the dozens that already bathed the apartment in candlelight. "You're certain all of this is necessary?"

Giles raised his head from arranging still more darkened wicks. The two former Watchers had been so lost in their own nagging fears - each plagued by the determined face of a different Slayer - that both had nearly forgotten they were not alone.

"The description is quite specific," Giles said as he consulted an open book on his desk. "Yes, um, forty-six." The candles were already working in their favor; he noted, with no small amount of relief, that a bored Spike had left. "Angel should find everything else easily enough. Once Oz returns, we can begin-" He placed the last candle, completing a partially lit, three-ringed circle. "-provided there are no surprises."

The door opened, and cold wind blew in as Cordelia and Angel swept inside. Wesley heaved a sigh as a patch of candles in front of him sputtered and died. Cordelia, who was making an emphatic point to Angel at the time, didn't notice. "I mean, look at her," Cordelia said. "That is one enormous glass house. I'd watch the stone-throwing if I was her. I'm right, right?"

Angel nodded absentmindedly as he sat a large bag down, then turned to give Giles a pleading look.

Giles hastily put himself in the line of fire. "Yes, well, I suppose being undead does allow one a certain amount of, um, social freedom. No offense intended, of course."

"None taken," said a relieved Angel as Cordelia now seemed content to help Wesley relight candles. Angel approached Giles and lowered his voice. "Oz should be able to take it from here. I'm going to see if I can keep Faith occupied. Just make sure you don't let Buffy-" He looked around the room. "Where is she, anyway?"

Giles nudged his glasses up on his nose. When he looked up again, every face in the room was staring intently over his shoulder. He turned to see a frail, battered Willow supporting Oz in the doorway, both of them soaked to the skin and covered in mud.

 

++++++++++

 

Long before Buffy opened her eyes she could feel something churning inside her, the way a queasiness permeates a fevered dream, calling her awake. She grimaced and squinted. The pre-dawn purple filtering through an enormous stained-glass window framed the outline of someone leaning close to her. The face was concealed in darkness, but the outline trembled.

"Faith," Buffy whispered. A trail of blood stung the blonde Slayer's right eye, but the uneasy fog that had woken her lifted like a veil. In that moment of clarity, she was overcome by an aching bliss - a need to touch that face in the darkness. She tried to extend her hand, but it wouldn't move. It was only then that she felt the thick ropes binding her arms and feet.

A wave of anger blasted through Buffy like an electric shock, and the face pulled away. She recognized the place at once, even through the dim light - the church sanctuary where she had fought to escape from Faith's body. Now only empty rows faced her as if some invisible throng was watching. Her arms were tied spread-eagle to something heavy and flat, propped upright. Faith had somehow removed the giant cross from behind the pulpit and lashed Buffy to it. As the rage took hold she struggled like an animal, panting and grunting.

"Just like old times, huh B?" Faith said, leaning against a window. "Nothing like a little bondage to get you reminiscing."

Beneath the thick strands of wet hair that fell over Buffy's face, her green eyes were lowered in a piercing glare. "Pardon me if I don't shed a tear."

"The night is young," Faith said. She picked up a long, ornately carved knife and ran her thumb along the razor-sharp edge, drawing the other girl's attention to the blade. "Yeah, I upgraded to the latest model. You know - kinda like Angel did." She smiled coldly and started forward. "It's a shame I forgot to invite him this time. He was always dead weight anyway."

The blonde girl battled valiantly against the mounting fury that threatened to take control at any second. She drew in a deep, ragged breath and fought for reason as the dark Slayer stopped in front of her. "Faith, you-you once told me that if I killed you, I'd become you. If you do this... what do you become?"

"Sleepy, probably. Let's find out."

Buffy's eyes darted over the taller girl's shoulder, then hastily locked back onto Faith.

Faith stared at her, confused for a moment, then spun toward the church door. "Not that it's not nice to see you, big guy, but three's a crowd."

"Let her go," Angel said. "You and I can settle this."

"Yeah, cause I'm gonna do that," Faith said. "There's plenty of me to go around, lover. Wait your turn."

 

\------

 

"The key to the unlocking the crest's power is inner peace," Giles said. "The participants must be free of fear, anger, turmoil. These can poison the harmony and, um, dilute the effect."

Cordelia looked around the room. Willow was leaning over Oz on the sofa, whispering reassurances and adjusting a blanket. Wesley didn't seem to have heard a word Giles said, and Giles himself seemed more than a little distracted. "This is going to be the most watered-down spell in history," Cordelia said.

"Oz is still kind of out of it," Willow said. "We have to wait because he's supposed to be the one who-"

"Will," Oz's voice croaked softly. She bent closer to hear. "Focus. You have to be the focus."

"Me?" Willow went as white as the towel draped around her shoulders. "I-I can't. I'm not sure I even understand all of this, and my focus isn't very focusy right now."

Oz weakly took her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. "You have it inside you. Your heart is strong. All the power you'll ever need... just look inside."

"Willow," Giles said. "I'm afraid there's no time. We can't afford to wait."

 

\------

 

The mahogany splintered as Angel went crashing through. He staggered to his feet, then stumbled over the shards and fell to a knee. Faith's boot sent him back to the ground.

The dark Slayer sucked in her bottom lip. Blood. She smiled, moved down and straddled Angel. "If you feel like praying, I'd say you came to the right place."

Angel teetered on the edge of consciousness as he saw Faith pull out a stake, and turned his head toward the cross near the pulpit. "Buffy..."

The dark Slayer's face twisted, and she threw the stake aside. "Buffy? Hey that's original. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. It's like some kinda broken record with you people." She stood and walked quickly to the bound blonde Slayer, pulling out her knife. "Well, your prayers are about to be answered."

Buffy stared back at her with an unwavering, stone-faced gaze. Her lips trembled in anger, and a word tumbled out. "Bitch."

Faith held the knife between them, focusing on the glinting point, and smiled again. "You know what they say about payback." She lowered the knife, locking eyes with the blonde girl, and stabbed downward. The ropes fell away.

+++++++++

Giles, Cordelia, and Wesley each took a candle and sat to form a triangle within the blazing circle. In front of each was a cup filled with warm liquid, which Cordelia sniffed with trepidation.

Wesley eyed the cup itself. "Daffy Duck, Rupert?"

"Um, I'm afraid I was a bit behind on dishes," Giles said. "Please try to concentrate. Willow?"

The redhead carried candle number fifty into the circle and sat at the center of the triangle, the Crest of Amahn swaying around her neck. "What do I have to do?"

"Clear your minds, everyone," Giles said. "Cordelia, Wesley, when I begin, repeat after me."

 

\------

 

The air seemed to crackle around Anya as the spell built. Her anger and pain had spawned a torrent of power that threatened to overwhelm even its own creator. Sweat beaded on her brow as raw emotion seized her heart in an iron grip.

Her expression contorted, yet she continued to chant. Tears rolled down her glistening face.

 

\------

 

Faith's punch landed on Angel's chin a split second before Buffy's kick slammed into the dark Slayer's chest. The blonde girl followed with a lunging left that missed and a right that was caught with a circular block. Faith immobilized the other Slayer's right arm and shot a blur of three punches into her midsection before Angel hammered the dark-haired girl aside with a hook to the jaw.

The dark Slayer took a step back. Together they were nearly a match for her. It had all been easy until now. There was only the brief tremor of humanity she had endured after she used the girl's soul to protect her while she positioned the cross... The cross!

Faith lashed out suddenly, catching Buffy by surprise. Her second kick landed, sending the other Slayer into the wall with a thud. As Angel moved to retaliate, Faith retreated to the cross. The wood seared her fingers at first touch, then cooled. She gripped it in both hands, turned, and swung the cross with a gutteral sound, cracking it across the onrushing Angel. He fell in a heap, his coat smoldering in the pale dawn light.

She gathered him up and pulled out her knife. She was in control now. There was time for some fun. "Let's try this again. Here's a tip - any word but 'Buffy'."

"Faith, I... I believe in you," Angel said, his face a mask of pain.

"Much better." She slammed the knife hilt-deep into his abdomen. "I believe in you, too."

 

\------

 

Candles flickered as each of the four figures sitting in the circle fought their own battle. Giles battled uselessness, isolation, and self-doubt. Cordelia struggled with insecurities. For Wesley, it was guilt and failure.

Willow, meanwhile, was stumbling through a cold, wet darkness. Her cries went unheard, her tears unseen. Then, softly at first, she heard the voices around her begin to chant. One hand closed around the crest, but that's not what she felt; in the darkness of her mind, her hand had slipped into Oz's hand. The other hand traced the heart pendant - and her spirit felt Tara's touch. A serenity like she had never known settled over Willow's heart, and she breathed deeply.

Everyone should know this. Buffy, Angel, Faith. Faith will know this. Images of the dark Slayer came into view, brief moments of happiness she had shared with Buffy and her friends. Willow smiled warmly, and the crest began to glow.

In the stillness of the room, no one heard Anya's cry or felt the air shudder as the fury of a vengeance demon was released.

 

\------

 

It was like a neverending dream - trying to run from an imagined terror but being unable to move your legs or watching helpless as you plummet to the ground. But now something awoke to a glow, a warmth that spread outward from her chest. Suddenly Faith could move her legs, could steady herself, could see the blood on her hands. She had been here all along.

And she wasn't alone. There was something inside her; something that whispered to her and, when she didn't listen, struck like a snake and sent her to her knees in pain. Faith thought back to what seemed years ago, to the moment she lost control. A memory surfaced of Angelus and blood on her lips, as the pain struck again. With each surge of agony, the thing was trying to lift her up, to take control again. So she did what she had done all of her life - hurt back.

Faith seized the enormous cross that lay by her feet and held it to her head. She shrieked into the air as the skin sizzled, but she kept the cross in place. The evil withdrew from its attempts to move her body, and she opened her eyes, realizing where she was with a start. Her muscles begged to crumple where she kneeled, but she could feel the thing inside her, waiting to strike again at the first sign of weakness.

Grabbing the cross again, she dragged herself to her feet and slumped toward a stained glass window. With a mighty effort, she lifted the cross waist high and flung it, sending it spinning sideways through the air. The glass shattered, falling in large shards, and sunlight streamed into the sanctuary. Battered and bleeding, she faced the sun.

Agony. Every pore screamed at the burning touch. Her mind fought to pull away, but Faith's will had been forged in a lifetime of pain that burned far hotter than this. She didn't move. After what seemed to be minutes of enduring the fiery torture, she cracked her eyes to the brilliant white light and was surprised to find that her skin was not ablaze. She was sitting awkwardly in a beam of light on a church floor, and the thing inside her was gone. The Slayer had won. She wearily lifted her head and faced the dawn through a jagged, stained glass frame. All around her, colored shards twinkled in the morning light.

_Guess they don't call it "Sunnydale" for nothing._

 

\------

 

At first Buffy thought the wall at her back had begun to vibrate. There was a buzzing somewhere just out of reach, deep and powerful, like the rumble before a thunderclap. An emotion welled up inside her, ever swelling, constricting her throat and tightening her lips. Rage; for innocent deaths, unanswered crimes, injustice - for all of the pain Buffy has ever endured. The cry of a vengeance demon filled her ears.

Her eyes snapped open, but they didn't see what they had seen before. The girl sitting in that sunbeam wasn't human - only pure, mocking evil. She flung herself forward with an unearthly strength.

Buffy's wild blows met a few weak blocks, then her first punch landed with a satisfying smack. A spinning heel kick followed, cracking against the other girl's temple. Faith shuddered and fell limply forward into a uppercut that whipped her head back at a sickening angle.

A hand fell on the blonde Slayer's arm from behind, and she answered with a brutal kick into a man's broad frame. Beneath a roar, he was calling her name, but she didn't listen. He was trying to protect the evil, so he was guilty too. A backfist and two booming punches exploded across his face, and a crushing roundhouse kick dropped him.

She turned to the girl, who was stirring in a pile of wooden debris. Buffy fell on her with lethal blows. The face looked up at her, blood streaming from the mouth, nose, and temple. But all she saw was pain; people who had hurt her, betrayed her, deserted her. Her and her mother. Abandoned. She watched one of her tears hit the other girl's face, a face that had become far more battered and bloody in the past few seconds. She realized that her fist had been falling across the face with thundering force. And it still was.

Again. And Again. And Again.

The mouth seemed to be trying to speak, but she heard no sound. Only the roar of fury. Buffy reached to her right, and her bloody hand closed on a large shard of wood. She lifted it over her head and slammed down with all of her anger, screaming in rage. The wood cracked through the girl's ribs and sank into her chest. But she had managed to shift her body at the last instant, and the shard tore through her right side instead of her left.

The dark-haired girl's body arched as Buffy ripped the wooden shard from her chest to a well of blood. Even as Buffy stared down, wide-eyed and panting, the blonde Slayer's pulse was slowing, the blinding anger slipping away. At last the roar died and she could hear again, could see with her own eyes. The stake fell from her hand and clinked to the church floor.

Faith was trying again to speak, but only a crimson foam made it to her lips as her lung filled with blood. "B, please," she choked out at last. "Please." Buffy blinked and shook, then pulled the dark-haired girl into an embrace. A few more cracked words touched the blonde girl's ear, sending her into racking sobs.

"Oh, God," Buffy said, pulling Faith away and looking at her wounds in horror. "Oh, God." Buffy tore away part of her shirt, wrapped it around her hand, and pressed it to the other Slayer's chest. Behind her, a figure was stirring.

 

+++++++++

 

"Could have been worse," Oz said. The others in the courtyard outside the apartment looked up in disbelief under the afternoon sun. "That's not so bad as herb drinks go. Believe me, I know."

"I don't envy you that knowledge," Wesley said. "At least I didn't get the bloody Tweetie."

Giles looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I'm going to join Anya at the hospital if anyone cares to come with me. After four hours alone with her, Xander may well be in need of another rescue."

"I'll come," Willow said brightly. "I have so much to tell Xander. Plus I just wanna share the joy that is the whole hospital experience."

"I'm in," Oz said.

"I think... we'll stay," Cordelia said, casting a glance at Wesley. "You know, just in case Buffy needs anything."

"Where are we going, again?" The five turned to Riley Finn, who stood in front of them in amiable confusion. "What? Did I miss something here?"

 

\-----

 

Faith wiped away tears and stared at the moonlight on her hospital bed. No need to check the clock; it was 3 a.m. She felt like there was a dagger in her chest, but she knew some doof nurse somewhere was probably raving about her miraculous recovery.

She sat up and bent a scream into a curse, wincing and clutching her chest. _You really got me good this time, B._ Pain meant one thing - that she had worn out her welcome. Time to move on. Rolling out of bed, she staggered to the room's closet and gathered her ripped, blood-stained clothes. Still wet.

They had put her in a first floor room. That was a start, at least. It was raining again, but she could deal. She always had.

"Where are you going, Faith?" Angel's somber voice came from the darkened corner. "What are you running away from?"

"Just demons and stakes in the chest." She couldn't explain to Angel. He wouldn't understand. No one could, not even B. "I think I've done about all the damage I can do here." She tried to lift the window and failed with a grunt, her hand going to her chest.

"It hurts doesn't it?" he said. "It follows you everywhere, keeps you on the run, never lets anyone get too close."

"The pain's inside you, Faith. You can't outrun it or leave it behind. You have to face it." He walked out of the shadows and joined her in the pale blue moonlight, the shadow of the rain rolling down his face. "But you don't have to do it alone."

Faith turned back to the window and watched the raindrops fall. Her reflection looked back. Someone else did, too.

 

+++++++++

 

Buffy pushed the branch aside and stepped out into a sun-splashed, green meadow. "Hey, girlfriend," Faith called from ahead. The dark Slayer was sprawled in the tall grass, shoes off, propped on both elbows.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy said, as she sat down beside her.

"You tell me, it's your dream. I stopped trying to figure this stuff out a long time ago." She looked around. "Pretty dead here, if you ask me."

"No, I mean why the cameo?"

Faith smiled. "Well, it's kinda complicated, B. It's something about Slayers that they never told you - probably thought one freaked out Slayer was enough."

"So... I'm supposed to ask nicely now? With sugar on top?"

The dark-haired girl, who seemed distracted by something overhead, smiled again, the same smile she had seen on the rooftop. "Oh, I'll tell you. Hey, does that cloud look weird to you?" She gestured to the sky.

Buffy looked up to see an enormous, heart-shaped cloud near the horizon. "Looks perfectly normal to me. Full of fluffy white cloudiness. So, the Slayer thing?"

"Right," Faith said, looking to the blonde girl again. "When one of us dies, part of their spirit joins the next one. So you and I have little pieces of every Slayer since the beginning of time running around inside us. The thing is, right after it happens - right after one dies - there's this splashdown, like when you throw a big rock into the water. They make waves. Remember when Kendra died?"

Buffy's face dropped.

"She gave you what you needed to get the job done, didn't she?" Faith chuckled. "Kendra - good in a fight, not that fun at parties. That girl is boring the shit out of me."

"So why stick around?"

"When the demon took over, part of me ended up here. Splash. Don't ask me how or why. I just live here. And let me tell you, you are one sick puppy. If I have to hear 'Wind Beneath My Wings' one more time..."

Buffy felt a sudden flush. "Listen, about what I said in Angel's apartment... when I thought you were dead, I-"

"You're preaching to the choir, B. I'm part of you, remember? But if it helps, I think the Faith out there understands, somewhere deep down." Her brown eyes lifted to Buffy's green ones. "See, part of me may just be getting here now, but-"

"Part of you has always been here," Buffy said.

"Always will be," Faith said. There was a short, warm silence as the meadow faded away. "Hope you can handle it, B."

 

\------

 

Buffy stood in front of her window, thinking about the dream. Outside, the rain was slowing at last. Her reflection stared back, but it looked different somehow. She breathed into the glass, and her lips curved into a smile as a fog spread from her warm breath and blotted out the image.

She opened her closet door and slid into a pair of leather pants. The night was young, and the Succubus Club was calling. Behind her, the last raindrops rolled down the window and trickled past a heart shape drawn in the fog.

 

END


End file.
